Fire and Ice
by Polly
Summary: When a freak accident puts Jess' life in jeopardy, Luke is unaware that this is going to prove to be the least of their problems. Jess and Luke centric - set in Season 2. Chapter 27 now up.
1. Chapter 1

Fire and Ice – Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer applies – I don't own them, blah blah.

Summary: When a freak accident puts Jess' life in jeopardy, Luke is unaware that this is going to prove to be the least of their problems.

Author's Note:

Hey again, guys. So this is another Luke and Jess fic (again, not a Rory one, I'm afraid so if you've tuned in looking for a _Lit_ fic then I'm sorry to disappoint you). But if you're after some more Jess angst and Luke bonding then this is for you! ;-) It's kind of based after _Watching the Watchers_ but you don't strictly need to have read the first one if you don't want to.

At the moment, I have a vague idea where this is going but I would REALLY appreciate any ideas you'd like to see included with Jess and Luke – I know it would help with the inspiration and motivation to keep writing as I've been struggling like mad with plot bunnies lately. So please, if you have any suggestions at all, please let me know!

OK – I hope you enjoy. It's rather slow to start but I promise it will pick up.

* * *

"Goodnight now, folks! See you soon." With one last nod goodbye, Luke finally ushered the last lingering customers out of the diner's door and shut it firmly behind them, breathing a weary sigh of relief. Closing time had never seemed so long in coming. Jess rolled his eyes, finished wiping the down the counter, wrung out the dishcloth and hung it out to dry.

"_Folks_?" he questioned with amusement, switching off the kitchen light. "My, aren't we suddenly Bugs Bunny?"

His uncle's eyes narrowed in response as Luke snapped up the lock. "I'm not taking people skills critique from the boy with three different glares in response to a coffee request."

"Critique? That Word of the Day toilet paper's really working out for you, huh?" Jess grinned as a box of napkins was suddenly hurled his way. He evaded the missile easily and bent to retrieve it from the floor behind the counter. When he looked back at his uncle, as expected, Luke didn't look cross. The bantering insults exchanged between he and his nephew were commonplace now and mainly dealt and taken without malice.

"And anyway," Jess continued, "I'm working on my range. By the time this endless winter's thawed, I intend to have perfected my long-distance withering glare for all those who think nodding at me from the other end of the diner, will get them a refill."

Luke groaned. "Can't wait for that one." Jess chuckled to himself. "Jess?" Luke asked. "Did it ever occur to you to, well I don't know, be _nice_ to the customers?" His nephew merely stared, incredulously at him.

"What? Like _you_ are?" He watched Luke's baffled expression for a moment before folding his arms across his chest and explaining. "Like when Mrs. Standage insisted she asked for blueberry pancakes not chocolate-chip?" Luke opened his mouth to protest but Jess simply swept in before he could utter a word. "Or when that old guy spent seven and a half minutes trying to order a cup of coffee? Or how about when you bodily threw that kid with the cell phone out when he tried to take the call inside?"

"I did not," Luke started to protest, finger raised in a warning, but he promptly cut himself off. "Just get upstairs, Jess."

The boy laughed and sidled past his burly uncle, through the curtain and up the staircase to their apartment. As Luke followed him up, switching off the diner lights as he did so, the older man continued to lecture his nephew.

"You know what else I learnt from that toilet paper, Jess?"

"Thrill me," he called back, letting the apartment door swing open with a careless bang.

"_Indefinite sentence_." Luke crossed the threshold and gently kicked the door shut.

Jess looked at him and scoffed, not appearing especially concerned.

"You said a week." A haphazard pile of hardback books lay on top of the side table. Jess now moved to them and picked one, seemingly at random, from the middle of the pile. Like some bizarre tablecloth party-trick, the rest of the stack merely wobbled precariously for a moment before settling back into a stable position.

His uncle shook his head. "I reserve the right to alter the time-frame."

Jess flopped down on the couch then proceeded to kick off his shoes. He opened his book and started to read. Without looking up from the page, Jess continued their conversation. "That wasn't even categorically proven it _was_ me."

The old fridge door swung open as Luke snagged a beer from the shelf and popped the lid. "Taylor receives a phone call from a national newspaper saying he's being awarded Citizen of the State for outstanding humanitarian contributions? Who else is it going to be?"

"Admit it," Jess goaded. "You found it funny."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"When he put the flyers up all over town? Don't tell me you weren't laughing."

"I wasn't laughing."

"You suck at lying."

"Yeah? And you're still grounded so I still win."

Jess muttered something under his breath that Luke was rather glad he couldn't quite make out.

"So what are we watching?" Luke asked, coming to sit down next to Jess. Jess glanced at him, irritably.

"_I'm _reading. Watch what you like." But his uncle shook his head.

"We agreed, Jess."

Jess sighed, loudly as Luke continued. "We agreed that Sunday nights were movie nights or at least time we'd spend hanging out together."

The teenager shook his head. "You so need to get laid," he muttered. Luke slapped him sharply round the back of the head.

"Hey!" he cautioned. His nephew rolled his eyes but begrudgingly closed his book, leaving it resting on his lap.

"Fine," he grumbled. "You choose." And so Luke thought.

"What have we got?" he finally questioned. Jess stabbed an accusatory finger in the direction of the meagre pile of films.

"What you can see!"

His uncle scanned the pathetic collection for a second before he sat back and folded his arms. "Well then you need to go to the store," he announced.

"What?" The scathing, incredulous look Jess shot his uncle would have caused lesser men to back down in submission. But not Luke Danes. Trial by fire had been _his_ initiation into parenting a teenager but he'd learned his lessons well.

Levelling him with an unwavering gaze, Luke continued. "We've seen all of these a dozen times and most of them are yours and therefore, rude and violent anyway." Jess threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

"You are _un_believable!" he declared. "And anyway," the boy interjected, finally seeing a way out of so boring an errand on so freezing a night, "I'm not allowed out of the building – remember?" Luke merely smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Then you should savour the opportunity for fresh air. A growing boy, such as yourself, should take all the exercise he can." Heaving a great sigh, Jess ignored his uncle's sanctimonious advice and hauled himself up off the couch, placing his book back on the pile on the little side table.

"Fine!" he huffed, stomping to the door. "But whatever I choose is going to be rude and violent so you're just going to have to live with it!"

Luke simply smiled. "Whatever you say, Jess." The kid scowled as he opened the apartment door, stuffing his wallet in to his jeans pocket and wrestling his feet in to his sneakers. "Put a jacket on," Luke commented. "It's like a sheet of ice out there."

His sneakers on, Jess stepped through the door and banged it shut with his foot, calling out as he did so: "Don't need it." And with that, he was off, leaving Luke to shake his head fondly at the retreating footsteps, padding down the stairs.

* * *

It had taken all of five minutes to select _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ from the store's somewhat abridged selection of titles and Jess intended to take every opportunity of his temporary freedom to stretch it to and beyond its limits. As he walked his rather extended and winding route, Jess turned his thoughts to his uncle and Stars Hollow. Over the past few weeks, since Bracebridge, his life seemed to be getting a little more bearable. He wasn't exactly doing back-flips or struggling to contain his daily excitement but his relationship with his gruff, well-meaning uncle was steadily growing. It hadn't been easy but over time, Luke's persistent attempts to break down his barriers with subtle, non-intrusive affection were starting to tell.

Liz hadn't called, not since the recent disastrous Christmas but Jess didn't mind. Actually, the teenager suspected that maybe she _had_ called, just not to speak to him. Even if she had wanted to, Luke wouldn't let her. More than once, Jess had walked in to the apartment to hear the tail-end of a heated phone conversation and each time, Luke would shoot a glance at Jess before hanging up, displaying more calm control than he would have given him credit for, given the irate body language and angry tone of voice. Some day, Jess knew, he _would_ speak to his mother, but right now he had all the family he needed with his uncle.

For the past ten minutes, Jess' feet had been taking him on a journey his mind was not connected to and he now looked up to take stock of his surroundings, suddenly aware of his oblivious ramblings. He was by the lake, frozen solid several inches thick, like a sheet of misty glass. The odd reed poked through the very edges near the bank where some of the ice was thinner than elsewhere. Jess stopped to admire it for a moment. Though he hated the cold in general, he did love natural wonders such as frozen lakes – maybe it was the artistic brain inside his head?

When Luke had eventually relaxed his mother-henning long enough to let him outside to enjoy the rest of his Winter break, Jess had often come down to the lake to read, ending up spending hours watching the skaters wobble precariously round in a vaguely elliptical pattern. It was always amusing when they fell – both the painfully bad ones who propelled themselves along by paddling their arms by their sides as if using the wind to push them along and the skilful show-offs who misjudged their manoeuvres and tumbled and skidded in a graceless tangle of arms and legs.

But now, at this time of night, the lake was deserted. The snow and ice on the ground and water, blanketed and muffled the every day sounds of the world and Jess allowed himself to get a little lost in the eerie silence it created.

Silence, however, never seemed to last very long around him. The overly cheerful exclamation of, "Hey! You!" broke the spell of the moment. Inwardly, he groaned. The bright red scarf and woolly hat, instantly recognisable as the attire of the crazier of the Gilmore duo, caused him to wince. However, he dutifully slowed up and allowed the gently jogging Lorelai Gilmore to catch up with him. He'd never hear the end of it from Luke if he walked away from his quasi girlfriend in public.

Though the look he gave her on her approach – a mixture of bland indifference and mild annoyance – was not what one would call welcoming, Lorelai merely ignored it. As her daughter had urged her to do, she was starting to look past some of the young man's more abrupt, offensive mannerisms. And after the Christmas fiasco, she was starting to realise that what she had originally taken for offensive was in fact, more _de_fensive. Jess, for his part, was starting to tolerate her presence with a little more ease. Sometimes she pried too deeply but mostly the elder Gilmore was aware of his boundaries and stayed within them.

"So," she started as she drew level with him.

"So," he nodded in return, continuing to walk along the riverbank. If she wanted to talk, she was going to have to keep up.

"What did you get?" She nodded to the video case in question. Silently, he held it up for her to inspect and she grimaced at the title.

"Ah, I see. Planning on torturing Luke some more?" Jess shrugged.

"If he was that bothered, he could have got it himself. Besides, given the astounding choice available, he was lucky: it could have been worse."

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

"So how much worse? What are we talking about here? _When Harry met Sally_? _The Remains of the Day_? _Species_?"

"_Titanic_."

She gasped. "Wow. You're right – _much_ worse." He nodded, silently as they continued their journey.

"So," she suddenly started, excitedly. "Want to know where I've just been?"

He stared straight ahead. "I've been told it's not polite to ask."

"To pick up these!" she continued, as if he had never spoken. He spared her a sideways glance. Lorelai held in her hands a sheaf of photographs and waved the stack in front of his face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you normally gush to Luke about stuff like this?" he questioned, irritably. "Or to Rory?"

With a triumphant smile, Lorelai countered. "Ah, but you were the nearest unfortunate Dane's clan member that I've come across tonight and I can't show these to Rory because they're a surprise _for_ her." Jess finally gave in and looked at the damned photos.

A freakishly bright-eyed baby stared back at him in a variety of poses and outfits. "Huh," he commented, neutrally. He may find the girl attractive but the baby did nothing for him.

"I found the old negatives in a drawer ages ago but I'd lost all of the actual photos so I've just come back from the store where they've blown them up and done all these wonderful things to them and I'm going to put them in an album for her and…"

"Please breathe!" Jess commanded, interrupting her mid-flow. It was making his lungs constrict, just listening to her.

She stopped and grinned at him. "Sorry," she apologised. "I get a little carried away sometimes."

"No kidding." He attempted to smile back but the conversation had now been going on for longer than his comfort zone allowed.

"Oh but just take a look at this one," the woman enthused, passing through the pile of pictures until she found the one she was looking for. She slid it out of the pile and held it up for him to take. At that moment, however, a sudden strong, chilling gust of wind swept across them, tugging the collection of photographs out of her loosened grip.

With a cry of dismay, Lorelai watched the pictures flutter on the currents, like a wild flock of birds before finally scattering over the lake and bank.

Hastily, she scurried as best she could across the snow, snatching up as many as she could, but the wind had picked up and they danced, tantalising just inches out of her reach, brushing her fingertips for a moment before flitting away.

The crestfallen expression on the elder Gilmore's face and the frenetic dash across the snowy ground, quickly softened Jess' heart as well as his resolve to remain uninvolved. Wordlessly, he walked past Lorelai, handing her the video as he passed and headed over to the frozen lake.

"What are you…?" she began as he had thrust the video into her hands. But when it dawned on her where he was going, she beamed. "Like uncle like nephew!" she called out after him, causing him to scowl and roll his eyes. "You're my knight in shining hair gel!" she declared.

"Please stop talking now," the teenager tossed over his shoulder but she only smiled.

Cautiously, aware that balance had never been his strongest suit, Jess picked his way over the dark ice.

"Careful," Lorelai warned, coming to stand a little closer to the edge. Vaguely, Jess nodded. The ice was thick beneath his feet but, if you listened carefully, you could still hear the wild flow of the water beneath the surface. The currents were strong and fast that night.

He bent to scoop up one picture and stuffed it down his shirt, for the first time wishing he had listened to his uncle and brought a jacket. It still had holes in it and was still threadbare but it would have taken the edge off the biting cold, stabbing at his cheeks and ears and nose like knives and covering his lungs with a layer of frost. Well, he amended, it wouldn't do much good for his face, but his lungs sure could use the respite. His ribs had finally healed though the lancing pain he still felt when the weather was this cold, was a keen reminder of his most recent adventures.

From the bank, Lorelai watched, grateful to her rescuer. Though she doubted she and Luke's nephew would ever be friends he was definitely growing on her – slowly. It was as Jess reached the second photo – the one with Rory in the sky-blue baby-grow – that it happened. The sound was sharp and loud, like a crack of lightning and amazingly fast. One minute, Jess was standing there and the next, he wasn't.

The splash of the water was the first real indication of what had happened. His startled, painful yell had been the second.

"Jess!" she screeched, stumbling forwards on to the ice. He didn't answer and in the moonlight, she could just about make out his head and shoulders, barely poking out of the dark, freezing water, chunks of ice floating on the surface. He was gasping, harshly against the cold, arms frantically trying to cling on to the edge of the ice hole and push himself up, the strength in his muscles all but sapped out from the shock of the cold.

"Jess!" she called again, edging closer but on alert for the weaknesses of her terrain. Silently, she cursed herself. She never should have let him walk out there – Luke was going to kill her!

"I…I can't," the boy began to stutter, struggling and scraping madly with his frozen hands, fingernails clawing the ice for any kind of resistance, for any kind of leverage.

"Hold on," Lorelai urged, terrified by the increasingly stark white pallor of his skin. If she could just get close enough, she could pull him out. In the back of her mind, Lorelai knew this wouldn't be enough: she wasn't going to be much help. But she had to try!

However, even as she thought this, Jess breathed in deeply, his face in the water, gulping down the frigid water into his lungs. He choked, his grip finally failed and he disappeared from sight and into the inky depths.

* * *

Ok – that wraps up chapter 1. Like I said, I'm sorry if this part was slow but there will be much more Luke/Jess later and I'm taking suggestions for ideas – willingly!

Please let me know what you thought of the chapter :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Fire and Ice – Chapter 2

Standard disclaimer applies – don't own them.

A/N – I'm ashamed by how long this has taken me to get out! A huge dose of Real Life got in the way of my creative juices as well as a bout of writer's block but all of your very, very kind reviews helped. And _Sisterdear _– thank you so much for all your comments – I may just pinch a few!

I'm really glad so many people seem to like this and I hope this next part doesn't disappoint and thanks again for all those who have taken the time to let me know your thoughts on the chapter.

BTW, medical research was done for this chapter but I'm still a million years away from becoming a doctor so please bear with me over any inaccuracies. UK spellings, too so some words might look a little odd.

* * *

"Jess!" Her scream pierced the night, wrought with a fear that rooted her to the spot.

"Jess!" she called again. The surface of the water chopped and churned. _Oh God_, Lorelai kept thinking. _Oh Jesus, oh God, no_. The young woman took a few tentative, anguished steps onto the ice, desperate to edge closer to the gaping hole where the teenager had disappeared through, to reach down a hand, break the surface and pull him back to safety.

In the flash of a second, her mind's eye had already run the scenario through in her head: how she would grab a hold of his shirt, haul him back and on to the land. Then wrap him in her arms and hold him on the bank until the warmth started to return to his chilled skin. He would be coughing and sputtering, shivering against the cold night air but after a short time, Jess would relax and his breathing return to normal. Soon, they would both laugh about this, over a warming mug of coffee at Luke's. And the boy would be safe and warm and whole again.

But as quickly as the comforting image swept through her mind, it left, leaving her void of comforting delusions and filled with the icy terror of reality. If she stepped out onto that ice and suffered the same fate as Jess, she would be of no help to him whatsoever and so, though it was torturous not to rush to his aid, for once in her life, common sense prevailed.

In that moment however, coughing and gasping, Jess resurfaced, his arms madly flailing about, breathing in harsh, laboured gasps. Lorelai's heart soared and the sudden swell of emotion spurred her into movement.

"Jess!" she called out, forcing her voice into the calm, measured tones she knew were needed to convince those in distress that all was well and their safety in good hands. "It's okay, sweetie. Just stay calm. I'm going to try to find something to pull you out with. Just try to keep still."

Blindly, Jess tried to make out the voice, thrashing madly in the freezing temperatures. "Help me," he sputtered, struggling to hold the icy surround. He could feel his fingers uselessly scrape at the ice as his numbed hands fumbled to find a secure hold.

"Try to keep still." He heard her voice again and immediately latched on to it. It was his lifeline – his comfort. Speaking was too difficult – the cold froze his lungs, constricted his chest and his teeth chattered so badly it was impossible to even open his mouth, much less form words. Each breath stabbed knives into his chest and Jess screwed his eyes shut against the pain. Instead, he tried to focus on Lorelai's voice. She wanted him to stay still. He had to stay still. But he was so cold! He had to get out.

"Jess, sweetie – I know you want to get out but it's important you don't move. Listen to me Jess. Can you do this for me? Please?" Wearily, he nodded, more to himself than to her who wouldn't have seen the slight gesture anyway. Though his movements were laboured and sluggish, the teenager managed to heave his arms up to the edge of the hole and spread them out, temporarily anchoring him in place.

From the lake's edge, Lorelai watched his ceasing struggles and relative secure position with a barely acknowledged sigh of relief. Just when Jess Mariano had started listening to her, she didn't know. Probably when she started referring to him with the affectionate terms she usually reserved for her daughter and loved ones, she mused.

"That's really good, Jess. Just hold it there."

Lorelai had already checked the status of her cell phone, only to discover that the battery was run down – it wouldn't even turn on. Cursing her lack of planning, instead, she scanned the surrounding area. None of the branches either looked long enough or sturdy enough to pull him out. She briefly considered her scarf or coat before dismissing them both. Her remaining option was clear, though it ripped her apart.

"Jess, I'm going to have to go and get help." Instantly, she could just about make out his head, previously lulling to one side, suddenly, painfully snap back alert.

"N...no."

The plea was so faint and wracked with wheezing coughs, she could hardly make it out. Tears sprang to her bright blue eyes, even as her voice hardened in resolve.

"I'll be quick, Jess, I promise but I need help to get you out." She watched him seem to raise a hand, as if asking her to stop. But she couldn't. If he lost consciousness in the water, she doubted there would be any saving him. Blinking back the tears, she started backing away, calling out as she did so:

"I'll be back before you know it, Jess. Just stay still." She started to hurry now, stumbling over her feet and the ground as she did so.

"Lore…"

It took all her willpower to ignore him. His greater need right now, whether the boy knew it or not, was for her to go and get help, not stay and offer comfort.

"It'll be okay sweetie – you're going to be okay!" And then she was gone, tearing out into the night, brown curls and scarf whipping at her face.

* * *

The streets were empty, lights extinguished in houses behind blinds and curtains as Lorelai Gilmore pounded through the town, feet skidding and slipping on the snowy terrain.

Before she knew it, she was headed down an old and well-trodden path.

* * *

Luke Danes was now a pissed off diner owner. His errant nephew had taken his temporary freedom to new heights. On calling the video store, Luke had been curtly informed that they were now closed before managing to extract enough information from them to realise Jess had been and gone a good half hour ago - and counting. As he had sat, as patiently as he could, waiting for Jess to breeze in, his mind started to play through the lecture he was going to treat the kid to on arrival. At the rate the night was going, it was going to be too late to watch this video before they both had to haul themselves up for work or school the next day. Well, he groused, he only had himself to blame for being foolish enough to send the boy out in the first place.

Finally, Luke got up from the couch, pulled a warm hat over his head, replacing his trademark cap and shrugged in to his thick winter jacket. There were very few places Jess could actually be so finding him was bound to be easy. The kid's cell phone had, of course, been left in the apartment. When Jess was finally allowed to see the light of day again, they were going to have to enforce some very strict rules about carrying that phone, fully charged, at all times. Until then of course, he'd just have to settle for dragging him by the scruff of the neck, back home. So, on a last minute whim before he left, Luke pocketed the phone to give, pointedly, to his nephew when he caught up with him.

The older man had no sooner closed and locked the diner's door when the most strange and alarming sight appeared. Out of the night came Lorelai Gilmore, running wildly, heading straight towards him with her arms waving. Concerned, he started to jog towards her, meeting her halfway.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked as they came within speaking distance.

She pulled up short, doubling over slightly as she fought to regain her breath. Taking in her appearance, Luke couldn't help but feel alarmed – her eyes were wild and bright and her face flushed and drawn in concern.

"Jess," she gasped. Then, spying the phone in his pocket, she snatched it up. Something in the pit of Luke's stomach turned. He grasped her gently by the arms.

"What about Jess? Is he okay?" Luke watched with increasing dread as his friend shook her head.

"The ice," she panted. "We were by the lake and he fell through the ice. My phone's dead and I can't pull him out." She had barely finished speaking before Luke was off running to the back of his truck. In less time than it took to tell, he returned with a coil of rope but he didn't slow when he approached her. Instead the burly man kept on running, past Lorelai and towards the lake. The truck's engine had been giving him trouble lately and Luke knew it would be quicker to run the short distance than it would to both start the vehicle and safely navigate the roads – a traffic accident now was the last thing any of them needed. As he ran, he noticed with relief that Lorelai was running after him, minds joined in purpose.

"Dial 911!" he called back and, though it was difficult to accomplish while moving so rapidly, she did so anyway.

* * *

Jess could not think. His normally agile brain, used to running entire scripts and dialogues through in his mind, was now numb and useless. Random, disjointed words and phrases flashed through his brain: quotes from literature, snippets of conversation with long-gone friends and family, those commercial jingles that just got under your skin. All of these spiralled around his jumbled thoughts.

But he was just so cold – so cold! His arms, feet, legs, all may as well be detached. He could no longer feel them and for that he was dimly grateful – at least that meant the searing pain had also vanished. But inside, a part of the young man was aware of the slowing down – everything about him seemed slower: his heart, his pumping blood, his vision, his movements.

But he had to hold on. This much, the last conscious part of his brain kept forcing himself to repeat. Lorelai had said to hold on. She was coming back. She said so. She was coming back. Wasn't she? His brain was foggy and it hurt to think. Thinking meant using the part of his brain that was still rooted in the real world. Jess didn't want to stay in the real world: it was cold and painful and dark and so alone. Always alone.

And as his head lolled backwards and his glazed eyes took in the star-pricked night sky, Jess barely recognised his need to be in someone's arms right then, to see his uncle's exasperated, kindly face smiling down on him, to hear Lorelai Gilmore's irritating yet gentle voice reassure him that he was safe. And for just a moment, it was as though the warmth those thoughts created thawed the ice in his chest and sent the life pumping through his heart again.

But as his head tilted further backwards into the lake and the icy water flooded into his ears, fanning out the hair at the base of his neck, the warmth left him and so too did the notion of comfort. There was no uncle, no chipper uncle's friend, no friend at all. He truly was alone out there.

'Must hold on,' he told himself even as his stiff, frozen arms began to slip backwards. As his eyes started to roll back into his head, a dim, faint voice calling out across the frozen expanse caught his fading attention. It sounded familiar.

"Jess!"

It was a man's voice, deep and concerned.

"Jess – hold on, son! I'm coming."

Almost unconsciously, his arms held their leverage on the ice even as his body continued to peel backwards. Though he couldn't make out words or actions or account for the passing of time, Jess was hazily aware of voices and loud noises, of movement and what could have been a rope. But above all, before the darkness took him and firm, yet gentle hands tugged at him, Jess was acutely aware that he was no longer alone.

* * *

The gentle beeping from the monitor over the bed had become as reassuringly comforting to the room's silent sentry, as the ticking of an old grandfather clock. Jess was sleeping peacefully now, looking impossibly small and pale in the stiff, white hospital sheets, his dark hair in stark contrast to the ashen pallor of his skin. Though a warmer tint was steadily creeping into his complexion, he was still far too pale for his guardian's liking.

A drawn and weary Luke, sat by his nephew's bed, absently rubbing soothing circles on the back of the young man's hand though which one of them the motion was supposed to be soothing, he wasn't quite sure.

They had told him to expect Jess to sleep soundly now – that his body was going to crave rest and warmth. The doctors had decided to keep him overnight, given the length of his exposure to the icy water and his brief moments of unconsciousness when he had first been hauled from the water.

But after an x-ray and a CT scan revealed no problems – at least, no long lasting problems, Luke had started to relax a little. Mercifully, there had been no water in his lungs, though the icy temperatures had sent him in to shock. The ride to the hospital in the ambulance had been one of the most difficult of his life.

They said that Jess' memories of that time would be hazy at best and for that, the older man was relieved. _He_ would have to relive those moments over and over again but he could live with that, provided his nephew didn't have to.

Personally, he was glad the boy wouldn't remember: wouldn't remember the rope that was looped under his barely conscious arms or how he had held him, cradled in his lap on the snow-covered shore as the ambulance siren wailed in the approaching distance. Luke was glad Jess never saw the blue tint to his skin and lips or how, on returning to the land of the living, the tremors that mercilessly shook his frail body heaped further misery upon an already deep-rooted pain.

Tears welled in the older man's eyes, eventually slipping down his cheeks as he vividly recalled tearing off Jess' soaking shirt and replacing it with his own thick jacket, wrapped as snugly around his too-thin frame as he could manage. Lorelai had run to wave the ambulance crew over to them as Luke had uselessly rocked his nephew in his arms laying kiss after kiss atop his soaking head, whispering words of comfort and willing his body heat to transfer to his sluggish, near-frozen nephew, flitting in and out of awareness, his breathing harsh and wheezy.

Those moments of awareness had been the hardest parts of all and Luke was glad Jess would probably never properly recall the screams of pain as he finally registered the biting, freezing temperatures stabbing at his body. Luke closed his eyes against the memory, just as he had held his nephew against his chest, frantically rubbing warmth into his arms, hands and legs, willing the ordeal to be over for the kid who never seemed to be able to catch a break in this life.

When the ambulance crew had tried to take Jess away from him, it was only Lorelai's gentle insistence that made him realise he had to let go, relinquish his hold. He had done so reluctantly, aware that he was going to have to entrust his nephew's life to somebody else. It didn't sit well with him.

Lorelai was dealing with the paper work this time around. Luke's sense of misplaced guilt only deepened as he realised it had not been so long ago that Jess had been a patient here before. Was he really that bad of a carer that he just couldn't keep the boy safe for more than a month at a time? Perhaps he would be better off with his mother, after all?

But, no. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, swiping away his treacherous tears as he did so. Jess needed him to be strong, not wallow in self-pity. Self-recriminations weren't going to do anyone any good. He'd seen how Jess fared when he lived with his mother and, though accidents may befall the boy here with alarming regularity, he could at least take comfort in the knowledge that, with Luke, all his suffering was unintentional. And, he promised himself, never to be repeated again.

A movement from the bed drew his attention. Jess was stirring slightly in his sleep, his dark hair ruffling on the pillow. It was still matted and coarse from his untimely swim. Luke was certain a good deal of the lake was still caught up in his nephew's hair. The kid would be aghast if he realised just how un-moussed he was looking right then. The thought brought a rare smile to Luke's lips. A shower was definitely in order when he got the boy home. Instinctively, Luke's hand moved to Jess' face, rubbing up and down the boy's cheek. Jess quieted. He looked content, Luke noted, gratefully.

The monitor kept a steady track of his heartbeat. It was a steady, strong rhythm and had both surprised and pleased the doctors. Once warmed up, Jess' vital signs had rapidly improved. Still, they were all erring on the side of caution and Luke was in full agreement. He'd been warned of the possible complications and was anxious to avoid them. Hypothermia, they could deal with as long as it didn't develop into anything worse.

With creaking bones, protesting at the sudden movement after so a long a period of hunched sitting, Luke stood from his plastic, bucket chair and straightened his back. He ran a hand over his face once more, rubbing at his eyes and trying to stimulate some life back in to his brain. In the near distance, approaching down the corridor, he thought he could hear the sounds of Lorelai returning but he didn't go to investigate. Unlike the last time Jess had been injured, he found his desire to have his dear friend around him was unusually diminished. His suggestion that she should return home, however, had fallen on deaf ears and so here she remained. Dimly, Luke wondered at the source of those misgivings. But whatever they were, they weren't important now.

Looking down at his nephew, Luke sighed heavily, crossing his arms tightly across his chest in a self-comforting gesture. He was exhausted but Luke knew that he wouldn't sleep that night. And as the realisation finally seemed to hit him – that Jess was whole and breathing and lying right in front of him – Luke began to tremble and finally shake with a strange mixture of utter relief and crushing grief. He sank back down on to the chair, leant forwards on the mattress and grasped his nephew's hand in his, bringing it up to encase it in his two, strong hands as a succession of unbidden sobs momentarily racked his body.

_But Jess was alright_, he repeated to himself. He was going to be alright – he just had to be. Determinedly, Luke reigned his emotions back in and leaned back in the chair, Jess' hand still enclosed in his, where he would remain till morning.

* * *

Okay – that's it for now. Please hit that little button below and drop me a couple of words (or sentences if you feel so inclined!) to let me know your thoughts. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Fire and Ice – Chapter 3

Standard disclaimer applies – I don't own them and can't even remember who does. But it's not me. So there.

HUGE thank you to everyone who has been kind enough to leave me a review – I really appreciate all of them. I'm afraid I haven't got as far with this chapter as I would have liked to but I know that time is pressing on and I didn't want to leave it too long between updates. So, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint some people and that you guys still enjoy it.

BTW, I've been looking on this site but can't seem to find a fan-fic group that is just for Jess and Luke stories – does anyone know if I've missed one like it? Hope this question isn't against the rules, by the way.

* * *

It was only the second crash of that morning, but already the diner's customers were starting to murmur amongst themselves and mutter behind thinly veiled hands and coffee cups. Caesar had been valiantly running around serving pancakes and waffles to the breakfast crowd for the last three hours and, Lorelai thought, been doing a pretty darned good job, too (his lack of cooking-skills not withstanding). She'd been helping out for a while but, though she usually thrived on the thrill of diner life, her heart that day was simply not in it.

And the clientele were not helping. "Is Luke _still_ up there, darling?" came the long, deep drawl of Miss Patty, reclining languidly in her chair. She shot the portly lady an exasperated look.

"Jess only got back from the hospital a matter of hours ago, Patty. Give the man a break." The elder lady merely raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, of course, dearie. How _is_ young Jess? Such a terrible accident," she sighed dramatically, shaking her head so that her jewellery shook and rattled. " I really am thinking of cancelling my Aerobics on Ice classes."

Lorelai bit her tongue and smiled as pleasantly as she could. Concern over Jess' welfare had been trickling in from around the town since the accident last night, most of it mere pleasantries, some of it given with the hope of a free cup of coffee in return but a few, more heartfelt.

Rory had even offered to stay home from school to help out in the diner and give Luke a break from looking after Jess' needs for a while but Lorelai had assured her daughter she would not be needed. Surprisingly, Lorelai considered, Patty was also probably one of the more heartfelt well-wishers, Jess having personally angered her less often than he did the others. Taylor's inquiry into Jess' health had been almost as frosty as the lake.

"He's doing well. He just needs to take it easy for a while." She glanced to ceiling above her. Luke hadn't made even one appearance downstairs to say hi, yet. She reasoned that he was busy and probably worn out himself but it still struck her as a little unusual. Perhaps she would go up and see him in a bit? Yes, Lorelai decided. She'd give her friend another half hour and then take some breakfast up to him, given he most likely didn't feel like cooking. Feeling a little less superfluous now and reassured that there was some new way she had to help him, Lorelai resumed her waiting on tables this time with more purpose.

* * *

"Twenty-four hours."

"It's not the New York Marathon."

"They said a day."

"It's just across the street, for God's sake!"

"I don't know what sixty lots of twenty-four are but I damned sure it isn't up yet."

"Has it escaped your notice that you're being insanely and preposterously over-protective right now? Stop freaking out! I'm fine."

"Jess!"

"What?!"

Luke paused, took a step back and inhaled and exhaled, slowly. Tensions had been running high all morning, Jess refusing both to adhere to the twenty-four hour bed-rest prescribed by the doctors and to take the medication that would effectively ensure he was down for the count. But, Luke knew, him losing his cool and snapping was not going to make anything easier. The guilt of the accident had caused him to end the grounding but he was beginning to wish he could reinstate it, just to give him another reason to keep Jess safely tucked away indoors for a while longer.

Realistically Luke knew it couldn't last forever but he was willing to give it a shot.

"One day is not the end of the world. Be reasonable. Your body needs to rest."

"Jesus!" Jess exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "It seems all my body needs to _do_ these days is rest – I've practically spent the last month catatonic!"

"Oh, and you don't think you're exaggerating _just_ a little?" Luke countered, folding his arms across his abdomen and levelling his nephew with a challenging glare.

Jess didn't so much as blink or miss a beat. "My muscles are gonna atrophy."

Luke sighed again, heavily and rubbed a tired hand over his face. Guilt began edging its way into Jess' conscience. His uncle was worn out and it was his fault. Luke was probably as sick of hospitals as he was and at least he had the small mercy of being unconscious for most of his visit.

Scowling heavily, Jess acquiesced. "Fine," he muttered stalking over to his bed and kicking off his shoes. "But for one hour only. I'm not staying here any longer than that."

"Fine," Luke agreed, knowing that once his nephew was asleep, he'd be out like a light, regardless.

A knock at the door drew their attention, suddenly. Jess glanced to Luke, clearly unwilling to answer it himself. His people skills had not improved lately nor was he willing to hone them now. Luke hesitated. Company from misguided do-gooders was the last thing they needed now.

"Luke?" they heard a familiar voice call out through the door. "It's just me."

Jess rolled his eyes and turned away to start getting ready for bed, presuming his uncle would let her in. As he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on a pile of clothes by his bed, he eventually heard Luke make his way over to the door and open it.

He opened the door to a smiling Lorelai Gilmore. Briefly, his eyes flicked down to the tray of breakfast goodies she was carrying and his stomach growled involuntarily. He'd forgotten how long ago it was since he had eaten but his treacherous stomach seemed intent on reminding him.

"I brought breakfast," she explained needlessly, pushing her way past him and in to his apartment.

"You've remembered I _have_ a kitchen up here, right?" he asked her marginally annoyed she had detected a weakness before he was even aware of it. If she noticed the trace of irritation, she made no mention of it.

"Fear not – that had not escaped my notice. But I also know that you're probably too busy battling with your pig-headed nephew to remember to use it. So, the Meals on Wheels program comes to you." She paused and grinned. "Only, without the wheels part cos, trust me, you'd be eating this omelette off your shirt rather than off a plate."

She turned to the boy in the corner who had finally finished wrestling a fresh t-shirt over his head. Lorelai gave him a short wave.

"Hey Frosty. How's it going?"

Jess ignored the jibe and instead jabbed an accusatory finger at Luke. "He's making me lie down despite the fact that's all I've been doing since last night."

Lorelai glanced to Luke who had shaken his head and closed the apartment door. She tsked in mock disapproval. " Uh-huh. The man has no heart, I tell you. And it looked like such a comfortable, relaxing sleep at the hospital, too. What with all the wires and the monitors and the needles in your hands and stuff." She nodded, knowingly, causing Jess to just scowl and turn away, muttering under his breath.

Considering her work at teasing Jess to be temporarily over with, Lorelai walked over to the kitchen counter and deposited the tray. Luke watched her for a moment before moving in to action himself and rummaging around in drawers for cutlery. "Thanks." He nodded to the tray and the tempting meal it held. "You know," he added, "you don't have to do this – hang around, I mean; help out at the diner. It's good of you, but I'm sure Caesar can handle it if you want to go home."

She patted his shoulder, comfortingly. "Nonsense. What are friends for? I've called work – they can do without me for one day. Apparently the world will not descend into chaos without me there to keep it on the straight and narrow. Though," she added, almost as an afterthought, "I may come back to find Michel stuffed in a freezer somewhere."

They both sunk down onto the couch as Luke tucked in to the food. Presently, the couch lurched again and both adults looked across in surprise to see Jess sit down on the other side of Lorelai. Luke halted the fork as it made its way to his lips.

"I thought you were going to bed?"

Jess shrugged. "Now I'm hungry."

From where he sat on the other side of Lorelai, Luke waved the fork at him as he spoke. "Sleep first, then eat. Now up and into bed!"

"Whoa!" Jess exclaimed, raising his hands defensively as the pronged instrument was pointed his way. "Careful with that thing, Uncle Luke: you might accidentally burst the plastic bubble I'm wrapped in."

Luke narrowed his eyes as he spotted the elder Gilmore smother a chuckle. "I'll make you some relaxing tea," Luke compromised. Jess opened his mouth, a protest already forming on his lips. Luke, however, beat him to the punch. "And one more word out of you and I'll give you a glass of water, a clip round the ear and send you packing." Jess shut his mouth again.

As Luke set his plate down on the coffee table, Lorelai turned to look at Jess more carefully. He was looking much better she was relieved to see. There was some minor frostbite on his hands and face but other than that, he looked none the worse for wear. "So how're you feeling, really?" she pressed, quietly. At the counter, Luke was still hovering over the boiling kettle.

The kid shrugged. "Fine. Just want to get out of here. Luke's going insane though." She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Give him time," she advised. "He's had a shock last night and he's just getting over it, that's all. It won't be long before things are back to normal." Jess narrowed his eyes and Lorelai began to recognise this as Jess' signal that he was mulling over what she had said.

"Anyone would think it was _him_ in the lake, last night," he muttered, eying his uncle carefully as he poured the tea to make sure he was still out of earshot.

Lorelai gave a sad, whimsical smile. "Trust me: when you're a parent, it might as well be."

"Yeah but he's not…" But then Jess stopped suddenly and closed his mouth again. "Yeah well," he continued, almost under his breath. "I still say it's stupid."

"Can't argue with that," she agreed, secretly longing to share Jess' silent admission with her friend, knowing how much it would mean to the man. However, she also knew what a betrayal of a private conversation would mean to Jess and Lorelai was starting to appreciate being one of the few insiders to get to know the real Jess Mariano. It was getting difficult to decide which priority was higher on her list.

"So," Jess started abruptly, changing the topic. "Did Rory like the album?"

"Huh?" It was so odd to hear Jess actually initiate a conversation she was completely caught off-guard.

Jess shifted a little awkwardly on the couch, relieved suddenly when Luke returned to hand him his tea as if welcoming the distraction. "The pictures," he clarified. "Did you manage to get them back?"

"Oh those." Lorelai could suddenly _feel_ Luke's eyes resting on her for a moment, before he looked away and moved his stare to rest on his plate, shovelling food into his mouth without bothering to savour the taste. She felt a touch uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah," she said, as casually as she could. "Funny thing really – a bunch of the townsfolk have been collecting them up at random and dropping them in at the diner or in my mailbox. I mean, I guess some of them are gone for good but a lot of them are cropping up all over town."

Jess glanced down at the mug of steaming tea in his hands. "Good," he admitted, very quietly. He took a sip of the soothing liquid, content to slip back into his own private thoughts.

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed, lightly, unaware her companion had already moved on from the topic in his own mind. "But you know, I guess they're only pictures. Silly really." Again, from beside her she imagined she could feel Luke tense and this time was sure she saw a scowl cross his features.

"Something wrong with the food?" she asked, concerned.

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"Is it cold? Because I can just pop it in the microwave for you if…"

"I said it's _fine_!"

The moment the snapped exclamation had passed his lips, Luke knew it was a mistake. Not only could he hear Lorelai cut herself off, sharply, mid-sentence then drift into uneasy silence, but he could also _feel_ Jess' suspicious gaze turn to fix on him. When he dared look up, his eyes confirmed it.

Jess' expression was at once incredulous and guarded, making Luke suddenly feel like every low-life male scum who had sat on a similar couch and berated another woman in the kid's life. Not that Lorelai was technically _a woman in the kid's life_ nor he as villainous as most of the men Jess had encountered, but still. The comparison did not sit well with him.

"I mean," he tried to explain. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired and cranky, I guess." From beside him, Lorelai gave him a small, hesitant smile.

"It's okay," she offered. "I understand." Alarmed, she noted the muscles, still tensed in Jess' arms, resting by the boy's side. A little awkwardly, she patted the boy's arm twice. "It's fine," she insisted, quietly.

Jess gave a small nod and turned slightly away from her, taking another sip of his tea.

For the longest of moments, the three occupants of the apartment sat in complete silence, side by side on the couch, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. Jess had given up on his tea and Luke had all but abandoned his breakfast and Lorelai wasn't sure whether she should stay or go.

Presently, Luke took the first step and broke the silence. "Jess," he said, gently but firmly. "I want you to go to bed now." And Jess didn't speak but instead leant forwards and placed the half empty mug on the table. Then he pushed himself up from the couch and shuffled over to the CD player. Selecting a Metallica CD, he slipped it in and pressed play. All the while, as Lorelai watched this in bafflement, Luke supplied the answer to the question on her lips.

"He needs music to sleep."

The opening chords of _Enter the Sandman_ sprang to life across the room while Jess wriggled out of his jeans, seemingly uncaring that they had female company and slid into bed in his boxers and t-shirt.

"Ah, I see." Lorelai returned. She winced at the rising volume then leaned across to Luke. "I used the same trick with Rory when she was younger," she informed him, conspiratorially, tapping the side of her nose. "Course it was more Brahm's Lullaby but you know, whatever works for ya."

Luke smiled tightly, rising from the couch with plate in hand and muttering something barely recognisable as having to clean up the dishes.

Jess pulled the covers up and over his head, burying his face in the pillow. Lorelai watched him for a second before taking a deep breath and going to join Luke behind the kitchen counter. She grabbed a towel and started drying dishes without saying a word. He glanced across at her but also said nothing.

"So," she started. "What's next on your to-do list? Anything I can help you with?"

Luke snagged a worn looking jacket from a nearby chair and tossed it to Lorelai. She examined the threadbare thing closely. It looked familiar.

"It's his jacket," Luke explained. "Found it when I came back home to get him something clean and dry to wear back from the hospital. Quickly realised there'd be no point trying to dress him in _that_." She ran the thinning material through her fingers and nodded.

"I'm going to buy him a new one," he continued. "Soon as he's well enough to be out and about and choose one himself. You know what kids are like – you would think they invented the word fashion."

Lorelai chuckled. "Yeah and from the sounds of it, it's going to be a little while before that happens." Luke frowned, taking the jacket back from her.

"What does that mean?"

She looked up at him, her mouth opened in surprise. "Well, you know," she explained, keeping her voice low. "He was doing the usual teenage grumble earlier about how you were freaking out and wanting to be overprotective and everything so I figured it might be some time before you let him out of the apartment again."

"I'm not being overprotective!" Luke snapped, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm not saying you are," she insisted. "I'm just saying that's what Jess thinks right now."

"And despite what he and everyone else around here thinks," Luke continued hotly, hands gesturing wildly, "I know what's best for that boy."

Lorelai took a step back, raising her hands in mock-surrender. "Don't be so defensive, Luke. No one's saying that, least of all me. I get it – you are alpha male. You decide when Jess is well enough to let him out of the house. I'm not disputing that."

"Damn straight, I am." Luke returned, causing Lorelai to bristle for the first time. He didn't seem to notice, however. "_I'll _decide when it's time to let him out and you know what else? I sure as _hell_ wouldn't have let him…"

He stopped, pulling himself up short so suddenly it was like witnessing someone jolted forwards and backwards in a head-on collision. But it was too late. Her eyes darkened and her jaw squared. If there was one thing Gilmores didn't shy away from, it was head on confrontation.

"You're angry with me."

He shook his head, gruffly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No," she pressed on, arms folded across her chest. "You're angry with me – you have been since the hospital and I just wish you would be man enough to come out and say it."

And so Luke stopped, took a moment to regard his friend carefully and then did just that, jabbing a finger in her face.

"I wouldn't have let him onto that ice."

She inhaled, sharply, her eyes widening. "So that's it. You think this is _my_ fault?"

"Isn't it?"

Lorelai could have hit him – she really could have. The indignant anger was coursing through her. Two things held her back, however: her sadness at the accusation in her best friend's eyes and the very real guilt she had been feeling since Jess had disappeared through the ice. Luke was right, though she couldn't bring herself to admit it. But he _was_ right: she never should have allowed it.

Glancing round to make sure the huddle under the blankets was still unmoving and the noise from the CD player was still blaring out, Lorelai hissed: "I would never do anything to hurt the kid! How can you even suggest that?"

"You didn't have to _mean_ it but it wouldn't have happened in the first place if you'd just thought about it and had one grown-up moment of responsibility in your life and stopped him going out."

She stared at the man in open-mouthed astonishment. "Are you saying I'm not responsible?" she demanded.

"I'm saying," he returned, "that if it had been me and _Rory_, I never would have let her out there and you would have hung, drawn and quartered me if I had!"

Lorelai didn't answer. Her eyes were starting to brim with tears at the accusations her friend was throwing her way. Luke's voice was quieter as he continued.

"And do you know what makes it worse?" he asked. Wordlessly, numbly, she shook her head.

"It was all for some stupid photographs – pictures that even you admit are silly and pointless. So how is that supposed to make me feel? Jess could have died for something so stupid you don't even care about it."

Sadly, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she admitted. The anger was still inside her but right then, she just wanted her friend to forgive her. She wanted to go back to the way things always were between them.

Guilt had been eating away at Luke since he'd seen the tears spring to his friend's eyes. He hadn't set out to upset her, he really hadn't. At the hospital, he had convinced himself that he wasn't even going to bring his misgivings up with her – that he didn't really mean them and once he had taken some time to get over it, he'd be able to let it go entirely. But he'd been wrong. It turned out his temper was on a shorter fuse than he'd like to admit.

But now, on hearing her broken admission, he suddenly felt very ashamed.

"Lorelai," he started, falteringly. "I…" He trailed off, helplessly.

"Oh for God's sake!" came a muffled voice. Jess threw the covers off his head and sat up.

He leant across and switched off the music, both adults watching him with a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

"Luke," he said, flatly, "you were being an ass. It wasn't her fault so if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. And before you get mad at me, just remember that you would have done exactly the same thing if you were there and that I probably got this misguided sense of heroics from you in the first place. So, you know what – be mad at yourself instead."

Before Luke could reply, however, Jess turned to an equally stunned and blushing Lorelai. "And Lorelai, just forgive him or hit him already and get it over with but both of you shut up, go away and let me sleep!"

And on saying that, Jess flicked the music back on and disappeared beneath the blankets again.

For a few seconds, they stood there, side-by-side, wearing identical expressions of surprise. After a moment however, Luke turned to Lorelai, smiled sheepishly, and offered her his arm, aware there were things to say but happy enough to let gestures speak for themselves.

"You heard the kid."

Carefully, she took his arm. "Sure did," she agreed, savouring the warmth his touch leant her.

"There's ice-cream downstairs," he suggested, nodding towards the door.

She laughed, lightly and squeezed his arm. "Lead the way." And so he did, leaving Jess sleeping soundly to the dulcet tones of Metallica.

* * *

OK, that's it for now. I know there wasn't much Jess in this one and I'm sorry about that but I promise lots and lots of him and of Luke next chapter. But please let me know what you thought of this one so that it better propels me into writing all those lovely Jess scenes next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Fire and Ice – Chapter 4

Standard disclaimer applies – last time I checked, they still weren't mine and were very grateful for it.

Thank you all SO much for your fabulous responses to Chapter 3. In case anyone was wondering if the story is wrapping up (which a couple of people seem to think), just to let you know that the plot is going to twist a little bit (still angsty though!) – the medical bit is really just the backdrop so I really hope people are willing to stick with the story for a little while longer as I REALLY don't want to abandon this!

And _Sisterdear_, as always thank you for your wonderful reviews – they really help to propel me on to the next chapter. And yes, I kind of wanted to continue on with the coat motif so thank you for picking up on that.

Also, I've added a C2 (thanks again for the info, _Sisterdear_!) for Jess and Luke stories so if anyone has any suggestions for the archive or even (bats eyelids hopefully) the time to be a staff member, could you possibly let me know? Many thanks and on with the chapter!

* * *

In some ways, Luke Danes was nothing like his nephew. In this particular case, he was very glad that in other ways, the two of them were exactly the same: they were both miserable shoppers. So when Luke announced they were going coat shopping, he couldn't question his nephew's fallen, pained expression. The moment they entered the store and Jess had located the first jacket that pretty much matched the one he already had, it was bought and bagged within five minutes.

Not that it had remained bagged for long. Luke insisted he wear it back, even for the short distance to the truck. Add to that, the scarf securely binding his neck and Jess was beginning to feel as though he were in a Turkish bath. But those were his uncle's stipulations: if he wanted out of the house, he wrapped up like an Eskimo. Dire consequences had been promised for him if he broke those rules.

The threat of developing pneumonia was always close at hand and Jess was convinced Luke had a checklist of symptoms stored under his pillow that he studied daily. If he so much as grabbed a Kleenex, Luke was hovering over the doctor's speed dial button with one hand and grappling for the thermometer with the other. The whole treading on eggshells things was really beginning to drive the kid crazy.

Slamming his passenger door, Jess buckled up then surreptitiously turned down the heater, cranked too high for his liking.

"So Jess," Luke started, keys in the ignition. "Can I ask you something?"

Jess shrugged, ducking his head into the glove compartment to find a cassette, even for the short ride back to the diner. "Knock yourself out."

As Luke started up the truck, he shifted in his seat a little, unsure of how to broach the topic. "You've known this old coat of yours has been in rags for weeks." He pulled out into traffic, turning the heating back up as Jess slotted his music into the player.

Leaning back in his seat, the teenager gave him a blank look. "Didn't take you for the fashion police but I'll be sure to bedeck myself in resplendent flannel when we get back, if it'll make you happier."

"Ecstatic," Luke returned, dryly. "But that's not what I was going to say." Jess merely raised an eyebrow and graciously gestured with one hand for Luke to continue. "What I meant was, if you've needed a new coat for this long, why didn't you say something earlier?" Well, _technically_ the kid hadn't said anything at all but Luke wasn't about to split hairs.

Jess simply shrugged. "Couldn't afford one. I was gonna save for it though," he added, defensively when he noticed Luke roll his eyes heavenward.

If Luke could have cuffed his nephew round the head and still safely navigated the road, he would have done. At times like these, he realised just how dumb his incredibly bright nephew could be. Well, he amended, maybe not dumb, but still seriously misguided. Again, he felt guilt prickle in his chest.

"If you need _clothing_ to keep you warm, Jess, it's not your job to save up for it!"

Jess frowned and turned up the volume before folding his arms across his chest and hunkering down in his seat. "I don't need you to _clothe_ me," he muttered darkly, refusing to look over at his uncle as a mixture of pride and stubbornness came to the fore.

Luke barked out a short laugh, causing Jess' frown to deepen. "Sorry kid but as I understand it, that's kind of what this whole guardian thing is all about: you know, feed you, put a roof over your head, clothes on your back. If I don't do any of these things then how can I throw it back in your face years down the line when you try to desert me to go to a West coast school?"

"Exactly!" Jess shot back suddenly, ignoring for a moment that the college reference was completely inappropriate for him. "I don't want to _owe_ anyone. It's not like I could pay you back for the living arrangement deal, either."

"Jess, I was kidding!" Luke defended, wishing he'd not brought the topic up at all.

"Well, _I'm not_."

"Jess!" Now Luke really did want to pull over and shake some sense back into the kid. As so often happened with him, anger and concern were constant roommates when dealing with a self-destructive nephew. How could they have cohabited together all these months without any of these issues coming to light earlier? He tried once more to break through to his stubborn nephew.

"Kid, you don't need to pay me back for the living deal. Teenagers generally don't do that. It's not like Liz charged you rent, is it?"

"That's different," Jess shot back, his confusion at not knowing exactly _how_ it was different, resulting in the anger that was creeping in to his voice. "She's my mother! She was kind of stuck with the deal of looking after me."

"Yeah, she did a bang-up job of that." Luke regretted the slip as soon as he'd said it. Cursing himself, Luke attempted to placate the boy whose expression had just darkened noticeably. Funny thing with Jess: he was the first to admit his mother was a less than conventional maternal figure but if anyone _else_ tried to do the same? That was a different story.

"I didn't mean anything by that. It's just that, you're _my_ responsibility now and that includes all those little fine print deals that come with it. And I'm not being forced, you know? I don't mind it."

Jess laughed, mirthlessly. "I'll remind you of that next time you're called in to the principal's office or the local jail." Luke allowed himself a faint smile.

"Okay," he amended, "so I won't always be doing cartwheels over the fine print deals but I promise you, I won't be concocting a scheme to get you out of here, either." And though Jess still looked doubtful, he gave a reluctant nod and set his eyes back on his lap. He'd just have to trust Luke and his word, he reasoned – for now.

* * *

The sound of excited chatter and heavy footfalls echoed around the corridors of Stars Hollow High, mingling with the fading ringing of the final bell, still ricocheting off the tiled walls and though Jess was neither excitedly chattering nor pounding down the hallway, he was nonetheless very glad the day was over. The mornings were always colder than the afternoons and so Luke had insisted on driving him to school, dropping him at the steps of the building, despite his mortal humiliation. That came with the added bonus, for Luke of course, of making sure he actually made it into the building every day.

Truth be told, after over a week of enforced rest, wherein his previous grounding might just as well have still been in effect, Jess had resorted to arguing his case to return to school with far more passion than the venture really deserved. But if it got him out of the apartment, for more than half an hour at a time, Jess was willing to take it.

Pausing by the old trophy case, Jess took a moment to study the ancient picture of his uncle, the high school athlete. He grinned – never would have taken Luke Danes for a track team man but there it was, in glorious sepia. And despite Jess' general distaste towards the building, he found it strangely comforting to be treading the same floors as the man he was growing to respect more and more, knowing, albeit for different reasons, that both generations of Danes men probably hated the school in equal measure.

"See ya, Jess!" One of his classmates waved an enthusiastic farewell as they filed out of the main doors.

"Take it easy, man," proclaimed another, stopping to clap him on the shoulder as he passed. It was a good job they moved so quickly or they might have been in danger of losing the offending appendage. Jess scowled at their retreating forms and turned back to the trophy case, studiously avoiding looking up and meeting any more inquisitive glances, aimed at getting a peak at the kid who had, only a matter of days ago, been cryogenically frozen in the lake.

Luke had wanted, no, _insisted_, that before his nephew be allowed back into school he would personally come down to the principal to explain the situation and how Jess should not be allowed to throw himself into any more frozen lakes, unsupervised. It had only been Jess' solemn oath that he would leave home and join forces with Taylor if Luke so much as put a toe across the threshold that had stayed his uncle off.

But, Jess considered, Luke really oughtn't to have worried: the moment Jess stepped into his homeroom, it was apparent the kids and faculty at school knew his situation better than even he did, right down to the drugs he was apparently prescribed at the hospital. His English teacher had even approached him with the prospect of writing an account of his experience for extra credit – God knows, he needed it. Yeah, extra credit and the insatiable curiosity of the teaching staff at break times, he wouldn't wonder.

It made him both angry at the intrusion into his personal life and amused at the small town need for sensationalism. Back home in New York, it would barely have turned a few heads, at least not in his old community. That said however, given the fact that a charity bake sale could whip the student body up into a frenzy, Jess could appreciate their need to have a dash of excitement fed in to their otherwise starved social existences.

When the crowd crush had finally dispersed, Jess pulled his book from his back pocket, picked his jacket off the floor from where it lay by his feet, tucked it under one arm and meandered out of the school, nose too buried in his book to notice the figure he almost crashed into on the way out.

Glancing up from the pages, Jess muttered a barely audible apology to the smartly dressed man, never slowing his pace as he negotiated the steps down. As he carried on down the sidewalk, heading towards the bridge, Jess didn't notice, lost as he was in his own world, the old, classic Cadillac that trundled past him, smartly dressed man at the wheel.

* * *

"You know it's really good of you to help me with my car, Jess."

"Uh huh." His head buried under the hood of the car, Jess' response was barely audible.

"But, you know…I can actually, probably top up the water myself – the rise of girl power being what it is and all." The dark head popped up for a moment revealing an equally dark expression, daring her to contradict him.

"I'm working on my merit badge – just deal with it, will you?"

Raising her hands in surrender, Lorelai backed up, nodding her head. "Duly dealing."

She wrapped her scarf a little more snugly round her neck as she stepped on to the sidewalk, her breath clouding in front of her mouth in the harsh air. Her car had over-heated a mere few hundred yards from her front door when Jess had spied her, stranded on the side of the road. Despite her best efforts to persuade him to the contrary, the young man insisted he help refill her radiator. Dean had even stopped by to offer his help but, surprisingly and much to her amusement, Jess had seen him off like an animal protecting his hunting ground.

And now she was starting to understand why.

"You _really_ don't want to go back home, do you?" Another scowl.

"You _really_ read way too much into things."

"Really?"

"Really," Jess confirmed, his voice laced with a finality that broached no further comment. Except that Lorelai Gilmore had no concept of the notion _no further comment._

"So you're not standing here, casting suspicious glances all around you, trying to avoid Luke and the prospect to going back to Alcatraz?"

Jess huffed, irritably and threw down the cloth he'd been using. "Fine. Sorry I stopped to help." He swivelled on one foot, poised and ready to stalk away when Lorelai relented with an amused smile.

"Okay, Jess! I'm sorry, okay? It was very nice of you to stop. Now could you please finish screwing that cap back on because my dainty little hands just don't have the strength in them?" With fluttering, wide eyes, she batted her eyelashes at him imploringly. And Jess stopped and then slowly turned around again. Sparing her a deceptively blank look, he took up the old cloth again and leant back under the hood of the car.

"There's nothing dainty about you Gilmore women," he muttered, putting the finishing touches to the newly secured cap.

"There you are!" The thundering footsteps, rapidly approaching him caused the teenager to groan. Lorelai couldn't help but smile as Luke Danes strode up to the pair, more than a little hot under the collar and clearly out of breath. She suspected his searching had taken him all over town.

"Don't have a hernia," Jess muttered, "I was just coming."

Luke didn't seem to find that an acceptable answer, however. He marched right up between his friend and his nephew, folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the culprit in question.

"You're over an hour late," he stated obviously agitated. Very slowly and deliberately Jess looked down at his wrist.

"Well what do you know? I don't have my watch on. Sorry," he added, not sounding especially sorry in the least. "I was helping Lorelai fix her car."

"He's been very helpful, Luke," the woman cut in. "There I was, damsel in distress, Kirk hovering threateningly in the distance with worryingly suspect claims of being a NASCAR grease monkey and your gallant nephew here just swept in and saved the day!"

"Yeah," Luke glared, darkly. "He's been doing that a lot lately." And even Jess had the common sense to keep quiet at that point, casting his gaze to the floor. Lorelai decided with her friend in overprotective over-drive, she was staying well clear of this argument. After all, it wasn't like Jess wasn't used to fighting his own battles.

"Where's your coat?" Luke suddenly demanded, noticing his nephew's jacketless attire. With a nod of his head and a swipe of his foot, Jess indicated the pile of material beside the kerb. Immediately Luke snatched it up and all but flung it round the teenager's shoulders. To avoid the burning humiliation of being dressed in public and knowing full well that his uncle was prepared to do it, Jess quickly shrugged in to his thick, newly bought overcoat.

"Good job with that," Lorelai declared, helpfully. "Snug as bug in a rug." On seeing that neither of the Danes men appreciated her contribution, she resumed her resolve to keep quiet.

Ignoring Lorelai, Luke continued to interrogate his nephew. "Why did you take your coat off?"

Jess nodded towards the open hood of the car. "I didn't want to get it dirty."

Luke's eyes narrowed again, his voice rising in volume. "And where's your scarf?"

With a put upon sigh, Jess indicated the woollen coil by his feet. "I took it off," he answered, knowing the only thing to do at this point was to ride it out.

"Why?" his uncle demanded.

Again, Jess nodded towards the car. "Because I didn't want to get it dirty." Lorelai simply looked from one to the other like a Wimbledon tennis match.

"What about your gloves?" Luke had noticed the boy's bare hands. "Where the hell are your gloves?"

Jess took a deep breath. "I took them off," he answered slowly and carefully.

"Why?"

Jess blinked. "I'm sorry. Did you want me to answer that or could your powers of reasoning connect the dots between the open car hood and the previous two statements?"

"Okay, that's it, mister." Without another word, Luke swiped up the items from the ground and then snagged a hold of the boy's collar.

"Hey!" Jess protested, sharply. He tugged once in a token attempt to loosen his uncle's grip, only to find the man unwavering. Their companion raised her eyebrows in amusement as the scene played out before her: her, and the other curious passers-by who had paused to take a look.

"Inside. Now."

"What if I have things to do?" Jess demanded.

"You know the rules," the bigger man ground out. "You come out without a jacket, you're in the for the night."

"What exactly do you think is going to happen to me?" Releasing one hand from his nephew's collar, Luke threw it up in the air in exasperation.

"Oh, I don't know Jess. Remember that talk with the doctors on pneumonia?"

The kid scoffed. "I'm not about to get pneumonia, Luke."

"Your immune system is weakened," his uncle pointed out, hotly. "The doctors said any kind of cold or flu could lead to something worse which will lead to something even more terrible and then you'll be back in hospital again and I swear to God, Jess if you get pneumonia I will kick your ass!"

From beside him, Lorelai coughed, quietly. "Uh, Luke? You're not really supposed to admit that part in such a loud voice and in, you know, such a public arena."

Unsurprisingly, he ignored her again.

"Five minutes without a coat on," Jess declared, "is not going to give me pneumonia." Then he coughed – a deep, painful, hacking cough. From across the street, an elderly man sneezed and blew his nose. Luke's eyes darted between the two of them.

"Right, that's it!" With one firm tug, he began to drag a protesting Jess away and back towards the germ-free cocoon of the apartment, leaving a rather bemused Gilmore in their wake.

And as Luke navigated them both across the street, Jess had to dig his heels in to avoid being pulled across the path of the classic, white Cadillac cruising past. For a moment, Jess thought he recognised the rather sharply dressed driver but he didn't have more than a moment to mull it over before he was whisked on his way.

When the man and teenager had disappeared inside the diner and Lorelai climbed back into her car and pulled away, no one seemed to notice the caddy turn back around the block, this time slowing down past the diner as the driver took a good, long look.

* * *

A/N – okay, this was quite short and light-hearted but I have a writing weekend planned when I hope to get back to the angsty stuff and the juicy Luke/Jess stuff. I really hope people still enjoyed this bit, fluffy and pointless as it may be. Please be extremely kind and drop me a note to say what you think. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Fire and Ice – Chapter 5

Standard disclaimer applies.

Summary: Jess, Luke and just a typical argument.

Thank you guys for all your really kind reviews. I'll hopefully be posting more soon where a few more answers will be forthcoming!

A huge thank you also to _obssessed wiv everything _and _Lax Chick_ – I really appreciate you guys taking the time to review – hope this chapter is worth hanging on for!

And to _Sisterdear _– yes, the coat will be missed, but he did buy one that was practically the same so he'll still look good in it. Let's face it, Milo would look good in a sack cloth! I hope you're not too disappointed when you find out who the caddy guy really is!! Thanks for reviewing – hope you enjoy this part.

BTW – some references to _Watching the Watcher's_ events so if you come across someone you don't know or a situation that wasn't in the show, this would be why.

* * *

That night had seen two ticks on the checklist and a possible dot by a third, all of which Jess could explain away. Not, however, to the satisfaction of those present. When his dry cough had not immediately dispersed, Luke had wasted no time in bundling him down on the couch and depositing a mug of tea into his hands and a dose of Tylenol down his throat. When his breathing came out a touch wheezier than he was used to (due, in part to the previous damage to his lungs at Christmas) he'd then been made to lie down, wrapped like a mummy in layers of blankets, despite his vehement protests.

Jess was not then surprised, given the layers of sweltering blankets forced upon him that, when Luke noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, his temperature raked in at two degrees higher than normal.

Jess' explanation, however would not appease his uncle who promptly restarted the earlier lecture and sent him straight to bed. Which is where, at ten past eight, he was currently meant to be. Luke's shower, however, allowed the teenager a brief moment of respite and Jess had resumed his favoured spot by the window, alternating his gaze from his book to the street below. Suddenly, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. There, parked below the window, was the white caddy that Jess was sure seemed familiar. In a town as small as Stars Hollow, you got to know the regular cars and Jess was reasonably certain he'd never seen that one before today. Moving the blinds to the side a little, he pulled the window up and leaned out.

"What do you think you're doing?" The noise behind him made Jess jump. He pulled his head back inside quickly and turned around.

"Good shower? " Jess asked as casually as he could, reclining awkwardly against the open window frame. Luke scowled and stalked over to where he sat. For a moment, Jess flinched but then relaxed when his uncle leant past him and firmly slid the window shut again.

"You're supposed to be in bed."

"Only because I'm _supposed_ to be sick but I'm not! If you weren't so paranoid you'd see that."

Grabbing a hold of his elbow, Luke unceremoniously hauled the teenager to his feet and gently pushed him back towards his bed. "Bed – now."

"This is completely ridiculous," the teenager groused. "I'm _not_ tired and I'm _not_ sick," though he nonetheless skulked back to his mattress and tossed his book down onto the floor.

"Whoopee for you. I however, the one who knows best, am _not_ caring." Luke stood sentry with his arms folded across his chest, watching carefully as Jess threw back the covers and kicked his way underneath them. He glanced up at his still frowning uncle before muttering darkly and shifting down into a horizontal position, pummelling the pillow more out of a need for violence than a need to maximise comfort.

On seeing this, Luke uncrossed his arms and seemed to relax somewhat. As he took a step towards him, his nephew's eyes widened in alarm and he scooted up his mattress, a warning plastered all over his face: "You even _try_ to tuck me in and they won't even _find_ the body!"

Luke snorted. "Trust me, Jess: tucking you in would be right up there on my list along with reading you a bedtime story."

Jess narrowed his eyes in response. "Jeez, Uncle Luke – I don't know. Those incessant lectures you like to give me drone on for about as long as a story would and their endings are just as predictable." He paused. "You're only one step away, you know."

"Well then I'll just shove my hands in my pockets till the temptation has passed. Now stay away from that window and get some sleep." He knelt suddenly to place an assessing hand over the boy's forehead, feeling for the telltale signs of warmth. Immediately, Jess scowled and none too gently, batted his hand away.

Luke frowned but kept his prognosis to himself. Instead, he stood and pointed a finger in his nephew's direction.

"I'll check on you in the morning to make sure you're feeling well enough to go to school." He'd be checking on him when Jess was asleep as well but the kid didn't need to know that.

Jess rolled onto one side, putting his back to his uncle and irritably pulling the covers up around him. "Give me a reason to live for, why don't you?" he muttered to himself.

And as he walked away from his grumbling nephew and switched off the side lamp, Luke simply grinned, took a beer from the fridge and sank down onto the couch.

* * *

It could have been Mrs. Shelpy's terrier, Barney, barking or it could have been the fading dream, which he couldn't remember but whatever the reason, Jess woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and heart pounding. Senses on alert, Jess scanned the darkness on either side of him eyes fighting to adjust to the lack of light. To one side, Luke lay sound asleep and softly snoring. Nothing else moved or made a sound in the apartment. Everything appeared as it should. Jess _should_ have relaxed but oddly, he found that he couldn't.

Glancing over at the digital clock by his bed, the time flashed as 12:07am. Jess looked over to Luke, checking to see that he still slept soundly. Then, swinging his legs out of bed and wincing slightly as his bare feet contacted with the cold floor Jess padded over to the window and looked outside.

At first he couldn't spot anything amiss. But then he saw it: parked opposite the diner sat a very familiar white Cadillac. "God damn it," Jess muttered to himself. "Son of a bitch is still here!" At that moment, Luke muttered in his sleep and rolled over. Jess' eyes darted over to the inert figure and waited, poised by the window. However his uncle didn't wake. Jess looked back to the car outside. With only the nearby light of a street lamp, Jess couldn't be positive if there was a driver but with the recent attack on the diner by Clyde Bartell, Jess was taking no chances. The last thing his uncle needed or deserved was another break in or any more damage done to the diner or the apartment.

Moreover, his curiosity was overpowering. Quickly, Jess slipped past his uncle and out of the apartment. The night air hit him full force when he opened the diner's door and Jess wrapped his arms about his body, absently rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he looked round for the car. There it was and now that he was closer, Jess was positive there was a man at the wheel. Whether it was the same man as before, he couldn't tell.

"Hey!" he called out to the car's driver, voice cutting sharply through the silence of the night. A moment later, the lights of the Cadillac switched on, illuminating the empty road ahead. The figure in the vehicle looked a little clearer now: he was tall, moderately well built but older than Jess had first assumed. The boy was sure he caught a glimpse of white or grey hair. Still, however, the man said nothing or made no attempt to move. If he was alarmed at being caught lingering outside the diner for hours, he gave no indication of it.

Now Jess' interest was really piqued. He hesitated for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. But the car wasn't going anywhere and Jess Mariano wanted answers. Mind made up, the dark haired teenager started walking towards the open top car, not bothering to check the traffic as he crossed the street. Still, the man sat there, for all intents and purposes, simply waiting for him.

"Hey!" Jess called again, as he drew nearer. "What do you want old man?"

The engine started and for a second, Jess paused. But though the motor turned over, the caddy stayed where it was and, undeterred, Jess pressed on. The man wore a hat, he could see as he approached, obscuring most of his features but it was his lack of a response that was both irritating and unnerving Jess.

"What's your problem, man?" he demanded. "You just going to sit here all night?" By now he was almost level with the gently rumbling car. The man behind the wheel said nothing, sitting mere feet away from him.

But as Jess reached the door of the car, the man suddenly turned to face him.

At that moment, however, the diner door slammed open causing Jess to spin back round at the sound. "Jess!" Luke called from across the street. Jess immediately turned and took a step back towards his uncle and as he did so, the car's engine revved up and with a squeal of tyres, the vehicle sped off.

Jess spun back to the retreating car and, for a moment, made to follow before he realised he'd have little success chasing a speeding car under the best of circumstances, much less shoeless and in a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt.

"Jess what the hell are you doing?" Luke demanded, jogging over to where the teenager stood, watching the taillights of the car disappear into the distance. Jess turned back to face him.

"Your timing is amazing, Luke. You know that?" His uncle didn't appear to appreciate the flippant response, however. Grabbing a hold of his arm, Luke proceeded to march him back to the diner. He didn't slow down until they were inside the diner and he had closed and locked the door before Luke spun round to his wandering nephew who was proving to be the death of him.

"Okay," the burly man announced. "Explain." His gaze was roaming furiously over his nephew's coatless, shoeless and generally…clothes-less get-up. Noticing the fire burning behind the older man's eyes, Jess wisely decided to hold off the smart-ass remarks and take the matter seriously…at least for the moment.

He shrugged. "Not much to tell. I heard a noise outside, I look out and there's this car just sitting out there." Luke threw his hands up in the air, gesticulating wildly.

"You go running out of the apartment in the middle of the night because you saw a car parked outside?" His incredulous, raised voice caused Jess to wince, inwardly.

"I've seen it hanging around before!" Jess protested, backing up a step.

"Where?" his uncle demanded. Jess' expression suddenly appeared shifty.

"Around," he answered. "Outside the school. And he was parked outside earlier today."

Luke's brow furrowed in confusion. "And this requires immediate investigation in your pyjamas? What are you, incredibly dedicated traffic police?"

"I am _not_ in pyjamas!" Jess shot back, angrily.

"If you've got a point Jess – a valid point – come to it now before I wring your scrawny neck."

"Jeez – _relax_, will you? My point is that I thought it looked suspicious. He could have been casing the place out – going to break in, you know? I was doing you a favour! It's not like I expect you to be grateful but the least you can do is get off my case about it." And on saying that, Jess brushed past Luke and stalked back up the stairs to the apartment, grateful to be putting some distance, albeit temporarily, between him and his seething uncle.

Luke was hot on his heels, entering the apartment moments after him and slamming the door.

As soon as the door was secured, Luke continued the lecture. "So let me get this straight: you think a guy is trying to break in to the diner so your first response is to go marching down there, on your own, without telling me, without a plan, without even any shoes on and then do… _what_, exactly?"

With his arms folded across his broad chest and towering over the somewhat diminutive teenager, Jess began to feel marginally intimidated.

"I don't know," he replied, defensively. Jess cast his gaze down to floor, then to the wall behind Luke's head then back down to his hands: anywhere than actually on his irate uncle's incredulous face. "_Something_," Jess continued. "And you know," he added, feeling a change of tactics may help him and desperately scrabbling for a new lifeline, "maybe he wasn't breaking in. Maybe he was…"

Luke raised his eyebrows expectantly and waited. "Was _what_?"

Jess shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe he was just like a…like a stalker or something?" He trailed off, aware that he hadn't exactly pulled off the smoothest recovery in the world. If anything, it just seemed to make Luke grow in height another few inches and dark storm clouds appear over his head.

"Oh, so what? You gonna hop right in the back of a stalker's car? What are you playing hard to get or just plain dumb?"

Jess bristled at the heated insult. "I don't know what you're so worked up about. Nothing happened, for God's sake!"

"No thanks to you."

Angrily, Jess waved him away. "Just give it a rest Luke – you're going to burst something. Look, I'm tired and cold and I'm going to bed. Okay?" But as he started to move past him, Luke's larger hand shot out and grabbed the kid's upper arm, spinning Jess back round to face him. As soon as he was facing his nephew, Luke took a hold of the kid's other arm, holding him firm, even as Jess tried to tug away from him.

"No! You just listen up, mister. For all you knew, that guy could have been dangerous, he could have been armed – he could have been anything for pity's sake and the point is _you_ didn't know because _you_ didn't think – again!" He gave the boy a hard shake, still not releasing his arms. "If things had gone badly, God knows what could have happened to you!"

"But they didn't!" Jess ground out, still wrenching his arms back as hard as he could. "You need to _stop_ overreacting, Luke: you're driving me crazy." He fixed his uncle with an angry stare. "Now let me go."

And Luke did but not before slapping him sharply round the back of the head, causing Jess to yelp and rub at the sore spot. Luke then thrust a warning finger in his face. "You put your brain in gear, Jess and start thinking your actions through for a change or one of these days I will come down on you so hard you won't know what hit you." The older man didn't give the boy a chance to respond. Instead he propelled him back towards his bed with a barely restrained shove.

"Now go back to sleep and if you know what's good for you, you won't move from there till morning."

He could try arguing, Jess knew, but it would do little good. Add to that he was already exhausted and, truth be known, starting to feel just a little under the weather – a fact he would be keeping well clear of Luke- so overall, a good night's sleep sounded like a very good thing to the weary Jess. And so, ignoring his uncle's overbearing nature and pushing aside the annoyance he felt at being made to tow the line for once, Jess buried deeper into his soft pillow and almost immediately, fell asleep.

It would be several hours later, under much more ordinary circumstances when events would turn again and Jess would learn to think more carefully on the warnings he was given.

* * *

A/N Okay, that's it for now but I'm trying to keep this one going as quickly as I can. Real Life, as I'm sure you are all familiar with, is trying it's hardest not to let me but I have a petition going for it to release me :-)

I'm sorry the caddy driver isn't revealed in this one but he will be soon – the Luke/Jess argument just seemed to take on a life of its own and I thought I'd better post before the chapter dragged on for too long! I really, really hope this isn't too non-actiony for some people and that the plot isn't dragging too much! It WILL pick up – I promise –it's just taking its time to get there.

Anyway, thank you for getting down this far. I'd really appreciate it if you dropped me a line to say what you thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Fire and Ice – Chapter 6

Standard Disclaimer applies – would anyone actually believe me if I said I _did_ own them? Thought not. Still, don't want to get sued…

A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed and nagged after the last chapter :-) And _Sisterdear_, you have very good deductive powers and yes, the gentle nagging did help. I'm sorry this chapter has taken soooo long to get out but it's getting harder to write this story. I'm not giving up, I'm just not as sure of it as I usually am. But please bear with me and please, please continue to tell me what you think because that really does make it easier to write. Oh, and those wondering where Rory is, she's around - fear not, all will become apparant...kind of.

Teeny bit of language in this one - you've been warned :-)

* * *

It was twenty to eight before Jess skulked down stairs and in to the diner the following morning, hair tousled up and Iron Maiden t-shirt hanging over his baggy jeans. A suspicious lack of school books adorned his person but never, in the time Luke had known him, had Jess actually carried books or even a pencil case to school. What he wrote with or on was a mystery.

"Thought you were helping with the breakfast rush this morning?" Luke snapped from behind the counter, dish rag draped over his shoulder and pencil wedged firmly behind his ear.

Jess tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder. "It's Wednesday. I don't do Wednesdays." And Luke stopped and took a moment to mentally run the days of the week through in his head.

"Oh, yeah right. Sorry." Jess merely rolled his eyes and kept on walking towards the door.

"Hey!"

The teenager stopped at the sound of his uncle's voice, hovering on the spot. "What?" he asked, back still to the older man.

"I've got breakfast warming for you in the kitchen," Luke replied, thumbing the open kitchen door behind him as he did so. With his other hand, he absently batted the counter around him, fingering through stacks of order papers and running his fingertips under the edges of napkin holders and cake stands. Sighing, Jess turned around and fixed him with an impatient look. He was normally more tolerant in the mornings but Luke's overbearing threats the previous night still had him simmering with childish resentment. Recognising it for the petty thing it was only served to make Jess more annoyed.

"Don't have time," the teenager said, waving a dismissive hand. He made to go again but, once more, Luke stopped him.

"You don't need to leave for another fifteen minutes!" he pointed out, glad the diner was relatively empty that morning. Domestics were never usually good for business. Jess shot him a mirthless, sarcastic smile.

"Yeah well, my feet have just been itching to get to school and my mind's simply screaming out for knowledge. What can I say? Your quest for learning is rubbing off on me, Uncle Luke."

"Jess," Luke began, firmly but his nephew cut him off.

"Not hungry, okay?"

Far from being okay, Luke's eyes narrowed. The one or two customers who had been surreptitiously eavesdropping, edged their chairs a little closer to their tables as if in preparation for the battle lines being drawn. "You're hardly eating anything these days," Luke returned, trying hard to keep the bark out of his voice. The fact of the matter was, that since the attack several weeks ago, Jess' appetite seemed to have generally waned and it wasn't as though the kid could afford to drop any pounds.

"You have to eat," he continued, "or you're going to make yourself sick."

"Getting dunked in sub-zero temperatures wasn't enough to get me sick! I doubt that foregoing that stack of waffles and French toast you doubtless have teetering in the kitchen there, is going to do what the Great Outdoors couldn't." He narrowed his eyes as his uncle jabbed a weighty finger in his direction.

"This discussion is not dropped, mister." Even as he lectured his nephew, Luke progressed from fumbling around the counter to actively lifting up containers and tilting up the cash register, all the while casting distracted glances up at the boy. "We're going to talk about this when you get home."

"Can't wait," Jess deadpanned. "Can I go get educated now? We're doing the numbers to a thousand and beyond today in Math and I don't want to miss it." Without waiting for a response, Jess turned on his heel and stalked towards the door.

"Where's your coat?" Luke called after him.

"Hanging right here by the door, genius." Jess yanked the item of clothing from its hook and roughly shrugged in to it. "Get yourself a seeing-eye dog," he muttered, opening the diner's door and let it swing in a wide arc.

"I heard that!" Luke shot back. "And there is _nothing wrong_ with my sight." He picked up the stack of orders, scanned the counter for the thirtieth time and then slammed them back down on the surface. "God damn it!" Spotting Jess still by the door and the incredulous look he was now shooting him, Luke pointed a finger to the still open doorway.

"Just get to school, Jess and shut the door behind you!"

"Fine," the teenager snapped, crossing the threshold. "I'm gone!" But before he slammed the door shut again, he leaned back in to the diner, through the doorway.

"And by the way, it's behind your God damned ear – where it _always_ is!" Then the door slammed and Jess stomped away, over the road, weaving his way through honking traffic and towards the High School.

And Luke shut his mouth, tried valiantly to wipe the scowl and the look of surprise off his face and then meekly retrieved the pencil from behind his ear and busied himself with writing down the last orders he'd taken.

* * *

With slow, steady beats, the minute hand on the clock swung round to the twelve, the hour resolutely showing no later than eleven, despite the weary fatigue permeating the room. Jess alternately stared listlessly out of the classroom window, every once in a while flicking his empty, disengaged gaze back to the whiteboard – just enough to avoid tedious lectures or detention slips he had no intention of honouring. With one hand supporting his cheek, the other used a compass point to whittle one of his favourite quotes from literature into the desk in front of him.

The History class he was currently haunting continued to labour the principal causes of the Napoleonic Wars and Jess did his best to tune them out. Outside, the sun shone tantalisingly, reflecting off the patches of snow not yet scraped off the sidewalks. But as Jess cast his gaze around, it suddenly stopped on a, by now, very familiar car. His eyes widened and he sat bolt upright in his chair. He could not believe it! The guy had some nerve, whoever the hell he was. Jess no longer believed in coincidences. Abruptly, he stood, scraping his chair back across the floor.

The teacher paused mid-narrative, peering over the top of his notes. "Jess?" he questioned in an unashamedly tired and wary voice. Interruptions from this particular student were few and far between and even less likely to be related to the subject under discussion.

Jess was halfway to the classroom door, the other students' eyes following his progression before he stopped and turned his attention to the suspicious Mr. Malloy.

"Bathroom," he all but snapped, doing his best to keep his tone conciliatory.

Most of Jess' teachers had given up arguing with him by now. Already half turning back to his class, Mr. Malloy waved him on, keen to have Jess Mariano out of his hair for the near future.

Once out in the hallway, Jess carefully moved past the classroom doors and their windows. He was used to sneaking _in_ to school after a leisurely start to the day but he had never had cause so far to leave once there. The exit was within sight and Jess had been relieved by the rapture all the students seemed to pay to their lessons: no one had noticed him slip by. Only the open door to the Principal's office stood in his way now. A quick peek into the doorway, thankfully revealed the man's back to the door, busy piecing together some new evidence in a student file. Given the thickness of the file, Jess noted, it could probably even be his.

Darting past the door, Jess breathed a sigh of relief as he crossed the exit and emerged back into the real world. Well, back into _Stars Hollow_ at least.

The Cadillac was parked a few yards down the street and Jess now took the flight of steps two at a time as he jogged towards it. In his head, the young man still wasn't sure what he was actually going to say when he approached him. A sliver of his uncle's warnings from the previous night crept into his mind: _could_ he be dangerous? Well, Jess thought, he was about to find out. He drew level with the trunk of the car and slowed, fractionally.

The driver's back was to him. The man was taller than he had first appeared, hunched by the wheel. He was broad across the shoulders, his dark tailored suit jacket creasing down the middle of the back. His hair was a shocking mane of white, the occasional silver-grey streak woven intermittently through, wreathing his head like a thick cloud of smoke and seeming somewhat out of place alongside his sharp, bespoke wardrobe. He appeared to be scribbling some notes down in a book – a journal, or a street atlas of some kind.

With one quick glance around him to make sure no one from the school had clued in to his whereabouts, Jess stepped up to the passenger door.

"Why are you following me?" Well, that hadn't been his ideal opening words but now they were out, he felt compelled to follow them.

The man in the car very slowly put down his pen, his eyes still scanning the scribbling on the pages. "Excuse me, young man?" His voice was deep with a slight southern drawl. Fired on by righteous indignation, Jess folded his arms across his chest and held his ground.

"You were outside the diner last night," he demanded. It wasn't a question. The gentleman inclined his head, ever so slightly, revealing thick, silver eyebrows.

"As were many cars," he pointed out, calmly. "It _is_ the main street of the town." Jess shifted a little uncomfortably. This wasn't the route he thought the confrontation would go: then again, he really hadn't envisaged much of anything. There was that impulse thing Luke kept nagging him about.

"You were _watching_ the diner."

Finally, the driver lifted his head, revealing a sun-weathered face, elegantly lined with age, bright twinkling eyes and neat and tidy moustache. His mouth was oddly small, as if transposed from another's face, his lips thin and pushed together resulting in a permanently disapproving expression. His gaze roamed once over the boy, making Jess resist the urge to squirm.

"My," the man remarked, quietly with just a hint of reproach. "What excellent eyesight you must have to be able to have seen where I was looking." Jess glowered at the gently taunting tone.

"I can assure you," the man continued, "I was not spying on you. I merely returned to move my car." Jess scoffed.

"In the middle of the night?" The driver raised an eyebrow but made no reply.

The teenager stabbed an accusatory finger at him. "So what are you doing now?" he returned. "Balancing the tyres?"

"No. I'm waiting for you."

Jess stopped. Though the man was still quietly spoken, he had fixed the boy with an unwavering, glinting gaze. For the first time since charging out of school Jess began to feel the tingling sensation of wariness, rippling up and down his arms. However, his curiosity could not be ignored. Another glance around him revealed a couple of passers by on the opposite side of the street. They were headed away from him but were close enough if he needed to holler. Not that Jess Mariano had any desire to holler to _anyone_, much less a couple of strangers in the street but if the worst came to the worst, he thought…

"You're what?" he repeated, a little uncertain now that the wind had been knocked out of his sails, somewhat.

The man chuckled. "That rather audacious attitude is going to be the death of you some day, I fear, as is your pigheadedness. I would have spoken to you last night but things were getting rather out of hand." He closed his book and stowed it in the glove box on the passenger's side. Jess narrowed his eyes and took a discrete half step back.

"Well we can't stand around on the sidewalk all day. Why don't you get in the car, Jess and we'll go for a drive?" If he was shocked that the old man knew his name, Jess gave no indication of it. Instead he gave a short, sharp bark of a laugh.

"Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"Because you're curious about me," the man replied, simply. Then he paused and after a little while, said: "But perhaps you're wise to be cautious." Abruptly, he took the keys out of the ignition and opened his door, stepping out onto the road.

"Then let's take a walk. There are things we need to talk about." Without waiting for Jess to respond, the old man strode across the road and started off along the sidewalk, ambling slowly but meaningfully and before he could comprehend what he was doing, Jess found his feet following on behind.

"I don't even know you, old man!" Jess called out, jogging to catch up. "Why the hell should I trust you?" The man stopped in his tracks and half turned to face him, a wry smile tugging his mouth up in one corner.

"Because I'm your grandfather, kid. Franklin Mariano." Then, leaving a wide-eyed Jess in his wake, he carried on down the street pausing once to call back: "But come to think of it, that sure doesn't mean you should trust me."

Jess blinked. Twice. Then he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Huh," he remarked before running to catch up with the mysterious old man.

* * *

"So why didn't you just knock on the door?" Man and boy were seated in a booth in the far corner of a bar, just outside of town. Idly, Jess twirled the plastic stirrer around the cubes of ice floating in his coke. He'd been offered something alcoholic but turned it down, surprising the old man. Jess wasn't fazed. He had no objections to alcohol itself but, relation or no relation, Jess wasn't about to get drunk with the guy who had been stalking him for the last two days. Not without a little more information.

"Couldn't be sure I was at the right place," Franklin Mariano remarked. "I only had your name, an extremely old photo and the town to go on – I wanted to make sure I had the right kid, first."

"Uh huh. And following me for two days was enough to convince you, was it?"

"As I told you," the man who claimed to be his grandfather replied, "I wasn't watching you last night. At least, not the way you think." Jess nodded, indicating he should continue. "I'll admit, I'd found out you lived above this diner. I vaguely remembered the name Luke from somewhere. I was sitting in my car, earlier that evening on your street, putting a call in to some people of mine, asking them to find out if this is the same Luke who Jimmy mentioned years ago." Jess took a sip of his coke, eyes quickly darting round the bar. It wouldn't have surprised him if Taylor did the rounds every now and then, looking for underage miscreants.

"I'm staying in a motel near by," his grandfather continued to explain. "It wasn't far so I left the car parked outside your diner and walked back to the motel. Only I'm heading off to bed when I realise that as suspicious as you are, if you saw the car there in the morning, you'd start jumping to conclusions."

Jess leaned back in his seat, taking in the old man's story and feeling strangely cocooned in the leather booth, stinking of stale tobacco, marijuana and last night's beer. There was something about being in the presence of Franklin Mariano that just made you feel…safe. Not necessarily safe from the man himself but secure in the sense that no-one would dare touch you with this man's towering, domineering aura. He exuded confidence and self-importance.

In front of Jess, Franklin chuckled and reclined against the back of the couch, spreading his arms predatorily along the top. "Just goes to show about Fate. I'd just returned to the car to move it when I notice the blinds moving by your window. I knew you'd seen me and figured I'd give you time to see if you were going to come out and confront me." He looked, appraisingly at the young man opposite him.

"I'll give you credit," he remarked, "You've got some nerve. Not a whole lot of sense, apparently but I like a kid with guts." Jess said nothing. He had said very little since the conversation had first begun. Aside from asking the occasional question, Jess was content to stay quiet. This man knew far too much about him for his liking and it was Jess' turn to investigate his stalker now. The last thing he wanted to do, at this stage, was give away even more personal information. Oddly enough and irritatingly so, however, the young man was getting the distinct impression that the less he said, the more the elder Mariano seemed to gauge.

For a moment, Jess let his eyes search out the face and bearing of Franklin searching for some kind of a resemblance between the two of them – the line of his nose, the shape of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. If there had ever been any pictures of his father lying around the New York apartment, Liz had either lost them or disposed of them years ago. Jess had no desire to meet the man who had walked out on his family, leaving him to the crappy parenting skills of Liz Danes but he sometimes admitted to a burning curiosity to see if he had inherited anything from his father's side: anything _useful_ would be preferable but anything at _all_ would be nice to know.

Franklin slid a hand to the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a silver, engraved cigar case. Retrieving a cigar from it, he clipped the end, lit a match and inhaled the smoke deeply, exhaling it with a satisfied sigh. Wordlessly, he held the open case to Jess. Jess wrinkled his nose and shook his head, once, a scowl starting to form.

"You sure?" his grandfather enquired, lightly.

Jess smirked. "I suppose that's going to _make me a man_," he intoned, his voice mockingly deep and gravelly. Franklin laughed.

"You don't need a cigar to do that, son." Jess immediately baulked at the familial title. Luke used it occasionally and he'd come to accept that, but not this guy – not a complete stranger.

"Let's face it," he continued. "My idiot son Jimmy started smoking these when he was fifteen – not the good stuff, mind you: the cheap, knock-off crap, filled with horseshit and god knows what else - and look what a waste of space he turned out to be."

Jess shifted uncomfortably for a second. He rolled his shoulders back once then asked, quietly, with an air of nonchalance: "You got any pictures of him?"

"Who?"

"Jimmy," Jess clarified, casting his eyes back to the table and feeling suddenly shy and ridiculous. For a moment, Franklin seemed to consider this, eyeing his grandson carefully.

"Nope," he finally answered, taking another puff, eyes still fixed on Jess as if watching closely for his reaction. Jess merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, his fingers toying with the beer mat on the stained wooden table in front of him.

"No," Franklin continued. "I've not seen Jimmy since he was, now let me think, five, six years old." Jess narrowed his eyes, darkly, the anger rising in him.

"So you walked out on him?" The old man tapped the end of his cigar against the ashtray.

"Runs in the family, I guess. Seems like I gave him a better innings than he did you." He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow laugh. "If it carries on at this rate, you'll run out on your girl the day you knock her up!"

"Screw you!" Jess spat. He tossed the beer mat down on the table and angrily began shrugging in to his jacket. A firm hand on his wrist stilled him, however. Franklin had rested his cigar against the ashtray and had one hand raised in surrender.

"Whoa, there. Hold your horses. I apologise, okay? You're obviously more sensitive to this than I realised." Jess scowled at the not so hidden implication.

"You don't know the first thing about me!" he returned, hotly. "You think spying on me for two days gives you any idea about who I am?" He was, nevertheless, sitting back down, albeit reluctantly. His grandfather took up his cigar again, as Jess dug into his pockets, pulled out a packet of cigarettes and angrily lit one up. He didn't much care for the sensation at that moment he just needed to be _doing_ something.

"You're right," Franklin admitted, gently. "I don't know much more than your name at the moment, though I reckon I can size you up pretty well. Who knows? Maybe you're made of better stuff than me and ya daddy? Can't say I'm proud of all the choices I've made but life with Jimmy and your grandma? Well, let's just say it was going nowhere. When I moved on, it was probably better for all of us."

Jess stared hard at the table wanting nothing more than to hate this arrogant, self-obsessed man. "You have another family?" he asked, hard and low.

He nodded and produced a crumpled picture from his wallet, tossing it at the boy. Reluctantly, curiosity still proving to be his downfall, Jess picked it up, unfurled it and looked. "Had a daughter about a year after I left Jimmy and his mom – Miranda. She got started young, _very_ young. Got a couple of kids of her own now - twins and I swear they share a brain between them when their mother's not using it. All half-witted morons, the lot of them – couldn't sell a boat to a drowning man. But I'm too old to go starting again now." Three ash-blonde figures stared back at him from outside a huge mansion, sitting on a porch swing. The woman looked about the same age as Liz and the girls, just a little older than him. Franklin had a point: neither one looked like the sharpest tool in the box, vacant eyes and dopey smiles abounding.

"You never asked what it is that I do," Franklin remarked, sliding the picture back out of Jess' hands.

"I don't care what you do," Jess snapped. "It wasn't an oversight."

"Fair enough, but I guarantee you'll want to know soon." The man was smiling, mysteriously, raising Jess' hackles but planting the seeds of interest nonetheless. One thing had been bothering him, though.

"I don't get it, though," Jess began. "You walked out on my dad when he was five. But then…"

"How did I know about you?" Franklin supplied. "About Jimmy at fifteen?" Jess nodded. "I walked out but I kept in touch, occasionally. Sent the odd check. I kept tabs, let's say."

"What? In case he turned out to be useful after all?" Franklin merely shrugged, neutrally. He stubbed out his cigar and took a swig of his whiskey. Jess couldn't stand the stuff. Liz used to drink it when she wanted to get hammered fast and the stench would permeate the apartment. He'd seen that Luke had a bottle up on one of the kitchen shelves. It was covered with a thick layer of dust, the seal solidly in tact and Jess strongly suspected it had been bought for him as a present, many years ago. Maybe Lorelai? Hell, maybe even Liz?

Jess pressed his lips into a thin smile. "So your entire family is a wash out. I feel your pain," he added, sarcastically. "You must be so disappointed he wasn't."

"Wasn't what?" Mariano Senior asked, eyebrow raised.

"Wasn't useful."

His eyes twinkled, glinted. "I wouldn't say that. He proved very useful…eventually."

Jess cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't sure he liked the way Franklin was looking at him. As if sensing the shift in the boy, Franklin suddenly pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it under his empty glass. Jess raised his eyes at the ludicrously expensive tip, given the minimal service they'd experienced.

"What time does that school of yours let out?"

Jess glanced up. "Three," he answered.

"Well then, you'd better be heading on home. Don't you think?" Jess glanced down at the time and swore, softly. It was already gone five. Where the time had gone to exactly, he didn't know. They must have spent longer walking the streets than he realised. Luke was going to have a fit. Again.

"Yeah," he agreed. He stood and Franklin stood with him, guiding him out of the bar with one hand on his back. Jess surprised himself by not immediately shrugging it off. He wasn't exactly sure if he liked Franklin Mariano but there was something about his frank, brutal honesty that Jess found refreshing and intriguing. He'd never been useful to anyone before in his life and he was kind of curious to see what that felt like: being the help rather than the hindrance, the only one for the job rather than the last one available.

Once outside, the temperature seemed to have plummeted. Jess zipped up his jacket as high as it would go and dug around in his pocket for his gloves. It was dark already. Luke never said anything for fear of embarrassing the both of them, but Jess knew he worried more when it was dark. Franklin stood facing him and held his hand for Jess to shake. Somewhat suspiciously, painfully unused to the action, Jess did so and gripped it firmly feeling a little embarrassed but strangely grown up. "I'll be seeing you, Jess," Franklin declared, an amused twinkle in his eye. "I have to say, it was very good to finally meet you. Very good, indeed." And with that, he turned and walked away, heading back to where he had parked his car.

Putting aside his rather strange meeting that day, Jess started the walk home, realising just how far out of town he and the old man had walked to get to the bar. It would take him at least twenty minutes to walk back. Sighing loudly, Jess set off for home. It had started to snow briefly while they were inside and now it started up again, swirling down in a hazy flurry around him. Jess pulled up the collar of his jacket, wishing he hadn't left his scarf lying on his bed. He wanted a cigarette to warm him up, the taste of nicotine and the lingering tingling in his chest making the yearning stronger. However, it was too cold to take his gloves off, fumble for the cigarette or find his lighter. He just wanted to get home.

He had started to cough, harsh and loud by the time he made it back to the town centre. Several times he had to stop and bend double, trying to ease the constriction in his chest and then straighten up to force the air into his lungs. His skin felt hot and clammy.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up in surprise to find that he was staring in to the concerned eyes of Rory Gilmore. Taken aback, he immediately waved off her concern. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Nice scarf." She looked down at the woolly material and blushed, faintly never sure with Jess whether she was being mocked or not.

"Thanks," she mumbled. They stood, facing each other, the silence prickling between them.

"What are you doing out?" he wondered, wishing it was easier to talk to her without his constant need for insincerity and bravado getting in the way of forming a real connection with her. She held up the CD in her hand. "I was borrowing this off Lane," she explained.

Slowly, they began walking side by side along the street. "Did you like the photos?" Jess wondered. She laughed lightly and ran a hand through her hair, clearly a little embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. Kind of embarrassing but it was really sweet – a mother's prerogative, I guess. Thanks, you know, for getting them back." He shrugged, secretly relishing the moment.

"Doesn't matter."

"Right," she agreed, hastily. "Of course. Still though," she glanced across at him. "I'm really glad that you're okay. I was worried." He looked at her curiously.

"You were?"

A rosy hue crept into her cheeks. "Everyone was," she dismissed quickly.

"Huh. Was Dean?" She gave him that look – the pointed, hard look, which said not to push. Tucking his hands under his arms, Jess acknowledged the look with a barely restrained sigh. He knew what was coming next and sure enough:

"I'd better get going," she announced, eyes scanning around her for the possibility of her boyfriend witnessing their little clandestine rendezvous. Despite the situation, he gave her a warm, genuine smile, which he was pleased to see her return.

"Take care," he instructed.

"You too," she returned, pointedly, playfully batting him on the chest. "And don't be a stranger. You're hardly around these days." With that, she was off scurrying back home as the wind picked up and the snow fell more heavily around them.

* * *

At just gone half past five, Jess quietly closed the door to the apartment and crossed the room to his bed, peeling off his gloves as he went and tossing them on the mattress. They came to rest by his redundant scarf. He hadn't spotted Luke in the diner so the chances were unfortunately good that he was in. Thankfully, Wednesdays were not working days for Jess or he would have been launched on by Caesar the moment he'd walked in the door.

The bathroom door was closed, the light shining on the other side of the door so Jess could hazard a guess where Luke was. Carefully, Jess removed his coat and then his shoes, stowing them neatly away. There was little he could do to avoid the coming storm so instead he pulled out a paperback and sat down on his bed to read.

Sure enough, moments later the bathroom door opened and his uncle emerged. When he looked at Jess all he said was, "Couch. Now." One, pointing finger indicated the way, in case Jess had forgotten. Sighing heavily, Jess pushed himself up from the mattress leaving his book lying open, face down to keep the page.

Despite his show of teenage nonchalance, Jess was dismayed to realise his palms were sweaty against the sides of his jeans. "Look, I know I'm late," Jess started, irritably. "But cut me some slack okay. I'm not working in the diner today."

"No," Luke agreed. "You weren't working in school, either." Jess pursed his lips and looked away, muscles tensing in his arms. Luke's stare was boring in to him and eventually, he was forced to look up and meet it. The eyes were dark and stony. Inwardly, Jess gulped and wriggled his toes on the carpet.

Outwardly, however, he simply gave a one-shouldered shrug. "How'd you know?"

"Funny thing," Luke replied, sarcasm lacing his tone, "but when students disappear from school they tend to phone home to see what's happened." Jess looked down and mumbled a very quiet apology.

"So I'll go tomorrow," he said. "One day's not going to make a difference."

"It is to you," Luke pointed out. "No TV, no phone, no visitors. I'll walk you to school and I will walk you home again."

"Jesus! Cos of _one_ day?!" Jess blurted out, eyes wide. Luke simply ignored the outburst. Instead he rose from the couch and moved to the kitchen, filling the kettle.

"You've been out in the snow," he remarked. "And you're sounding wheezy. Plenty of fluids then an early night." He set the kettle boiling then arranged a mug and some kind of herbal tea on the counter. A plastic bottle on the side held Jess' medicine and Luke snagged it from its spot and placed it next to the mug. He looked over to where Jess still sat on the couch. "Get ready for bed," he instructed. "This'll be ready by the time you're done. Then you can take your pills."

Still dumbfounded, Jess rose from the couch, open mouthed filled with disbelief at his uncle's rigid response to a minor infraction of the rules. Muttering under his breath, Jess swiped up his sweatpants and t-shirt from under his blankets and then stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the ornaments on the nearby table, shook. When he emerged, ten minutes later, Luke held out his hand for Jess' clothes and in the other, held out the mug of tea.

"Here," he told the boy. "Give me those and I'll stick them in the wash, it's nearly full. You take this and get your meds from the counter." Scowling, Jess handed over the pile of clothes, swapping them for the mug of steaming tea. He brushed past Luke on his way to the kitchen counter, snatched up the two tiny pills and swallowed them with a gulp of tea.

"Jess?" Luke's voice sounded behind him, hard and suspicious. He turned around, apprehensively. Luke held his t-shirt in his hand, sniffing it like a bloodhound on the scent of its quarry.

"What?" he questioned, trying to sound annoyed rather than nervous. Luke held out the clothes in one fist.

"Why do your clothes stink of tobacco? And beer?" His voice was rising and Jess cringed a little. "Were you in a bar today?" he demanded, angrily swooping towards his nephew. Jess could see the hot tea spilling everywhere in a minute so he quickly put the mug back down on the counter before his uncle reached him.

"Jess?" Luke demanded again, taking him firmly by the arm. Jess' brain struggled to come up with something – any kind of plausible excuse. But his nimble mind failed him repeatedly. Now Luke leaned in and took a whiff of the boy's hair, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he confirmed his suspicions. The disappointment shining through the displeasure was enough to make Jess twinge with regret. The boy suddenly seemed to shrink in stature, scuffing his toes through the rug. He stared at the floor for a second before raising his chin to meet his uncle's incredulous look. Jess gave a short nod then looked away again. He wanted to pull away but knew enough by now to know that Luke would simply yank him closer again.

Luke threw the clothes down on the couch and tightened his grip on his nephew's arm. "Why, Jess?" he shouted. "What the hell is going on with you? Skipping school isn't enough? You have to spend the day in a bar, too?" He tilted Jess' chin up roughly, forcing Jess to meet his eyes. Luke could clearly see the regret in the kid's eyes, which only served to confuse him more.

"What's going on, Jess?" he repeated, more softly. Jess sighed. It wasn't like he was going to be able to keep this quiet for long anyway. Luke may as well know.

As Luke sensed his nephew about to open up, he released his arm and took a step back, content to give him some space while he was cooperating. "It wasn't my idea to go," Jess began after a deep breath. Luke furrowed his brow in confusion. Jess was coerced? There was some kid in Stars Hollow actually _worse_ than his nephew? The diner owner wasn't sure if that made him oddly relieved or acutely nervous.

"Someone went with you?" Luke felt the need to clarify. Jess nodded. "Another kid at school?" Luke pressed. At Jess' shake of no, the bigger man was puzzled.

"I don't get it," he said. "Then who?" He watched, suspicions rising as Jess took another deep breath.

"I spotted that same car outside the school this morning," he explained, looking down at his feet so he wouldn't see the changes blossoming over his uncle's face. "So I went out to ask him what he was doing." Something in Luke's gut shifted and twisted into a tight, painful knot. His ears were burning and he almost didn't want to hear the rest of the story.

Jess was ploughing ahead, determined to finish while he still could. "Then we…_talked_ and he asked me to go for a walk with him and I did and then we walked some more and wound up in this bar and then we just sat and…_talked_ some more." He stopped and breathed. Carefully, the teenager chanced a look up at his uncle. He almost wished he hadn't. He'd seldom seen that expression on Luke's face before. Beyond angry, scared, confused…an indefinable mask. His right eye was twitching, his lips pressed tightly together and his jaw grinding round and round. The hand came back to encircle his arm like a claw, once more.

Jess glanced down at it and idly wondered if this was the step too far that would bring with it the hiding his uncle had promised him over a month ago. Luke was generally over the top and prone to wild gesticulating but he wasn't a violent man. He hadn't raised a hand to him since he was eleven years old and had run out into the road, mere inches in front of his uncle's truck during one of his visits to New York. It was, however, something Jess was anxious not to repeat any time soon.

Luke's grip tightened and he pulled Jess closer. Leaning in towards the boy, he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You _what_?" Jess opened his mouth to speak but Luke cut him off. "After last night?" he began. "After _everything_ I told you?"

"But…"

"You just don't listen do you? I'm not getting through to you, am I? You had a _drink _with the guy who's stalking you!" Jess briefly wondered if pointing out that his was non-alcoholic would help. He doubted it.

"Just let me explain!" Jess pleaded, futilely seeing where this was headed.

"_What_, Jess?!" Luke seethed, dragging the boy to the couch and shoving him down onto it with a soft thud. "You crossed the line," he continued to rant. "You went too far. What can you tell me that's going to make a damned bit of difference now?"

Jess' eyes were wide with apprehension as he looked up at his simmering uncle. The evening was going to turn very unpleasant unless he just came out with it.

"He's my grandfather!" he blurted out and then watched, with trepidation, for Luke's reaction.

* * *

Right. That's it for now. Please let me know what you think! I'll try really hard to make the next update faster.


	7. Chapter 7

Fire and Ice – Chapter 7

Standard Disclaimer applies

Thank you all very much for your really great reviews last chapter. I couldn't reply to everyone so thanks also to _**lax chick**__, __**ramblingrory**_, _**obsessed wiv everything**_, _**saysummer**_ and _**Element23**_ (hope you liked the rest of the story, btw). This update was a little quicker this time and hearing your thoughts really helped push me on ;-) By the way, in the chapter 5, who was _**me xox**_? I'm just kind of curious ;-)

* * *

"One more time. Your _what_?"

Jess watched Luke's confusion cross his face, warring with the need to vent his anger.

"My grandfather," he repeated. Luke placed his fingers to the sides of his temples, willing his powers of concentration to flow through his fingertips and en-fuse his brain with the means to wrap his head around this latest development.

"Your grandfather?"

Jess nodded, carefully. He wasn't out of the woods yet and was well aware of it. "That's what he said."

"Before or after you went to the bar with him?" Luke demanded, sharply. Jess glanced down at his bare toes.

"Before," he answered, with just a trace of hesitation. It was the truth but it didn't feel like it: a shady truth hiding somewhere in the space between a lie and a technicality. Luke wasn't done pacing yet, his hands waving haphazardly around him as if his erratic movements could help organise his thoughts. Jess didn't really mind, though: as wild and as unnerving as an irately pacing uncle looked, it was a hell of a lot better than if Luke were sitting beside him – within grabbing distance. Nope, Luke could pace as far away from him as he wanted, Jess decided.

Suddenly, Luke spun to face him, one finger pointing: "I assume we're talking Jimmy's dad?" Jess opened his mouth to reply but Luke cut him off with a wave of his hand: "Never mind that – stupid question." He then spun round again and resumed pacing in the opposite direction. He appeared for all the world, like Columbo, preparing to sum up a case to a room full of potential suspects. Jess didn't dare voice that, though.

"And you know this, how?" Luke had finally stopped pacing and returned to hover above his nephew. Jess shrugged almost as if he didn't quite understand the question.

"Because he told me." He shrugged again as Luke's eyebrows shot up.

"And you _believed_ him?" Jess began to wriggle uncomfortably.

"He knew stuff," Jess explained, though the explanation sounded weak. "And besides, why bother making it up?" He grew quiet. "Not like people are beating a line to the door, you know, wanting to be related to me. Most people try to deny it." Finally, Luke sunk down on the couch, next to Jess. His nephew shifted up a little along the cushions.

"And what did he want with you?" the bigger man demanded. Again, Jess spread his hands, palms up, helplessly.

"Jess," Luke began slowly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't know for sure. I mean, I can't tell you why someone would want to pretend and maybe he _isn't_ but this guy could still be anyone." Luke sighed, heavily, took his baseball cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. "What did he say his name was?"

"Franklin Mariano." Jess peered, quizzically at his uncle. "Does it sound familiar?" His voice held just a glimmer of hope in it. Truthfully, he'd not given much thought to the possibility that this man had been lying but now that the idea had been suggested, it was hard to ignore. Jess wondered why he'd not considered it before.

Next to him, Luke was scratching his chin, thoughtfully. "I don't know much about Jimmy," he replied. "And I know even less about his family." Jess felt his throat dry as his palms started to itch.

"Maybe…" he started softly then coughed once and continued, louder this time. "Maybe Liz would know?" Luke stiffened.

"Maybe," he acknowledged, reluctantly. He'd been trying hard not to make an issue out of his sister's phone calls over the last few weeks. She'd wanted to talk to Jess, clear up the _misunderstanding_ over Christmas. Luke wasn't having any of it. Several times, he suspected he heard the familiar voice of Clyde in the background, words slurred and angry and that just made his blood boil all the more.

He hated the fact that he'd let Clyde go – let him get away with the damage he'd caused and every day that passed, made his anger and guilt grow rather than diminish. And he hated the idea that his sister was still with the guy – that Liz could continue to live with the man who had beaten her son to within an inch of his life. He didn't hate her – he _couldn't _hate his own sister, his own Lizzy – but it just went to show where her priorities lay.

However, he also knew how hard the topic of his mother was for Jess, too and bringing her up now, couldn't be easy for him. So for the kid's sake, Luke tried to be nice about it. _Tried _being the operative word. "I guess we could give her a call," he offered, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

Jess surreptitiously toyed with a stray thread on the couch cushions, eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet. "I suppose," he agreed then rushed ahead, quickly: "But she might have a photo: that would probably help more." Luke immediately bit his tongue then took a deep breath.

"Uh huh. She might. She can send it." His voice was like iron. He knew where Jess was headed and Jess knew not to push.

He did it anyway. "It'd be quicker if I could…"

"No."

"But you said that I…"

"_No_."

"You're the one who wants me to prove…"

"Jess! Quit it – I _said no_." He slammed his hand down hard on the cushions between he and his nephew, making Jess jump. Luke could feel the tension in the muscles across his neck and shoulders, screaming out in protest at the pressure he was putting on them. His fingers clenched by his sides and he forcibly made them relax; straighten out. But God, Jess was pushing his buttons that night and he wasn't even trying! The kid wasn't being obstinate or cocky or hostile– he was just making the task of protecting him extremely difficult. So what else was new?

Luke took a deep breath, content to believe the subject had been dropped. "Let's get back to today's events." It wasn't a suggestion. Jess nodded, wearily. He just wanted this discussion to be over with, even if it ended badly. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions and revelations for him and Jess wasn't sure how much longer he could go before the need to retreat into his own, private little world asserted itself too strongly. His books were calling out to him, their easy escape taunting him, just out of reach. Even just a quiet corner of the room would suffice – a place where he could be alone with his thoughts and process them: channel the ones he could use and bury the ones that hurt.

But right now, Luke was demanding his attention.

"Tell me everything that happened," Luke instructed. "Starting with your Great Escape from history class." Jess took a breath to begin but before he could utter a syllable, Luke cut in: "And don't," he warned, jabbing a finger in his chest, "miss anything out."

And Jess sighed and leant back against the back cushions: might as well get comfortable, he thought, dimly.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Jess finally stopped talking. His throat and mouth were dry. He wanted to go to the kitchen to get a drink of water but, like tiptoeing round a predator, he didn't fancy making any sudden movements. Jess had been talking almost non-stop for that length of time and the experience was foreign and unnerving – for both he _and_ Luke. His uncle had been content with letting him tell his story, occasionally interrupting to clear up an issue he was unsure of but otherwise, holding his tongue.

Jess, for his part, was done. He was done arguing; he was done explaining his actions; he was done defending himself. He was already grounded but if he wound up with extra shifts at the diner or worse, he was past caring.

Luke was still, thinking. He leant forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. He seemed to be weighing Jess' story up in his mind. Presently, he looked over to his nephew and ran a weary hand over his own face. "Well," he began, slowly, "at least you didn't get in the car with him. That's something, I suppose."

Beside him, Jess stayed silent and Luke could sense that the kid had said his piece for the night. He sighed, heavily, realising he was going to have to wrap things up. "Jess, I know you see where the problems were today. Right?" Jess nodded, eyes staring straight ahead. "I mean," his uncle continued, "you can't go up to a guy you don't know. You sure as hell can't go off on your own with them! We don't even know if he's lying and even if he _is_ your grandfather that doesn't mean you should automatically _trust_ him."

Jess turned his head sideways to look at him. "That's what _he_ said." And Luke pulled up slightly and gave a short, humourless laugh.

"Well, at least the two of us agree on _something_," he muttered, quietly. "That's somewhat comforting." Jess grew quiet once more and Luke turned to regard him, stonily.

"I oughta kick your ass for this, Jess." Whenever he thought about the boy's reckless attitude and his constant disregard for instructions, Luke had to fight the urge to swat some sense back into him. He grabbed the kid's chin and turned his face to him. "You know that, right?

Mutely, his chin still held by his uncle, Jess shrugged, eyes refusing to meet his uncle's. He wasn't expecting more so reluctantly Luke released him and sat back. "Are you meeting him again?"

"I think he wants to but I don't see how. I don't have a number for him or anything." Jess was breathing a little easier, now that he knew his minutes weren't numbered. Luke seemed to think about this for a moment.

"But you said he was staying in a motel near by?" Jess nodded.

"Right. I don't want you so much as nodding to him on the street until I've met him. Understood?" Again, Jess nodded but Luke pressed on regardless. "I'm talking about if you are walking down one side of the street and he comes up towards you, what do you do?" For the first time that evening, Jess rolled his eyes at him. "You hightail it to the other side of the street. That's what you do," Luke supplied. "You find the nearest responsible adult and you go stand near them."

Jess' expression darkened and he bit back a frustrated sigh. Perhaps this was his punishment, after all. "And if you're in the grocery store and he's in frozen produce and you want ice-cream – that's just tough, you will be in different aisles! Do we understand each other, mister?"

"I _get_ it," Jess glared. "Thank you."

"Good! Glad that's sorted." Then he cleared his throat, abruptly. "Right. I'm going to fix us something to eat and you," he said, pointing at Jess, "are going to eat every bite of it." Jess rolled his eyes and tutted. "In the meantime, you get on with your homework."

"I left before we were given it."

Luke smirked. "Well then why don't you start on the week's worth of backlog you've got? You've probably got time to put a dent in it before bed." He chuckled as Jess scowled.

"I'm sick, you know!"

"You'll be a lot sicker if I don't see you sitting at that table, books in hand, sharpish."

With a put upon sigh, Jess sunk down at the kitchen table and dug out his schoolbooks, buried in the seldom used book-bag that hung on the back of the chair while Luke busied himself in the kitchen, cooking up the most appetising meal he could think of, to tempt his nephew's waning appetite.

* * *

It didn't take long to track him down. In a town as small as Stars Hollow, there was only one motel and certainly only one within walking distance of the diner. Sure enough, with Caesar watching the diner and Jess safely walked to school, Luke rounded the entrance to the two-storey motel's parking lot. There, just as he assumed it would be, sat the Cadillac, parked right by the entrance in full view of the front windows. Luke had a hunch that their mysterious friend would have chosen a room that meant he could look out over any approaching visitors, not to mention looking out for his car.

Still, a quick enquiry at the reception didn't hurt, either. In less than five minutes, Luke was knocking on the door of number 9. "It's open," he heard a deep voice call out. Blinking in surprise at the apparent trust in small town moral values, Luke tested the door handle and sure enough, found it unlocked. The door swung open revealing Franklin Mariano sitting in the room's lounge chair, cigar in hand and glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the chair.

"Mariano?" Luke questioned, a touch uncertainly. The older man smiled.

"I'm assuming you must be Luke Danes?" He noted his companion's posture straighten and surmised he had guessed correctly. "I've been expecting you."

Suddenly, the first words on Luke's lips died as he let out a short laugh. Off Franklin's taken aback expression, Luke explained: "I'm sorry but I feel like you should be sitting in front of a giant computer with a big red button. Maybe with a white cat in your lap and a little trap door here, under the rug."

Franklin grinned. "You take me for a villain, then?" He chuckled. "Perhaps." Luke took a step forwards then stopped. "Please," the old man said, "come in and sit down, please." He watched as Luke made his way over the carpet and sat at the wooden chair, just pulled out from the room's desk.

"So, Luke. I take it you're here to talk about Jess?"

"Good guess." He leant forwards, appraising the older man with a keen, boring eye. "You're putting yourself in Jess' life. I want to know why."

"Putting myself in his life?" Franklin repeated, amused.

"You're following him. You get him out of school. You take him to a bar."

The old man sighed. "That."

"Yeah. That." He leaned back, rather uncomfortably against the desk. "What do you want from him?" The old man raised an eyebrow, stubbing out his cigar on the ashtray.

"You make it sound so malign. Can't a grandfather just be interested in meeting his grandson?"

"Not when you've had his whole life to come and introduce yourself, no. And not when I'm not even convinced you _are_ related to him." Luke stood. Sitting down wasn't natural for him when he was trying to protect his loved ones. Franklin smiled but chose to remain seated. He apparently felt no need to posture or defend himself.

"So that's it. Well, partly. I can show you my driver's license, of course but if you still have doubts, why don't you ask Elizabeth? She is your sister, isn't she?" He pulled his wallet from his inside pocket, removed the license and tossed it to Luke who caught it, one-handed. Tearing his suspicious gaze from Franklin, long enough to glance down at the card in his hand, Luke scanned the details. As far as he could see, the license looked real and did indeed identify the man as Franklin Mariano, Knox County, Nebraska. Not that it convinced Luke beyond a shadow of a doubt but he had to admit, it eased his concerns a little.

"Actually," Franklin continued, "I'm surprised Jess hasn't gone to his mother already – I would have thought she might have some kind of memorabilia to prove my story." Luke perched tensely on the edge of the desk chair, ready to spring up at the first sign of trouble. He cleared his throat, gruffly:

"Yeah, well she's not exactly on my list of top attractions to visit at the moment."

The elder man appeared surprised. "He's not allowed to see his mother?"

Luke immediately became defensive, shooting to his feet as he felt his hackles rise. "That's none of your damned business: it's between my nephew and me. You got that?" Franklin raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Of course. I didn't mean to pry."

"So what _do_ you mean to do?" Luke shot back. "Other than contributing to the delinquency of a minor – who, by the way, _doesn't_ need a whole lot of contributions on that count – what is it you want from my nephew?"

"Just a chance to get to know him," he insisted, for the first time rising to walk over to Luke, hands resting on his hips. "I'll admit I'm not the world's most attentive of grandfathers. Did Jess tell you I have another family?" Luke gave a short nod. "I've spent many years building my life around them and not really given my first family much consideration at all. I don't know what got me thinking about them now." He paused, watching Luke carefully for his reaction. So far, the younger man seemed to be content to let him continue.

"I own and run a very lucrative real estate business out in the mid-west. Modesty aside, I've done very well for myself."

Luke snorted. "But you've come to realise that all the money in the world is worthless without a family to share it with?" His tone was mockingly saccharine. Franklin chuckled.

"Actually it's a very nice way to live and retire, I promise you. But this is a family business and Jess seems like a sharp boy: I think his future's worth investing in. I _am_ his grandfather whether you believe it or not and I do have the means to help him. It's as simple as that, really."

Luke narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "Jess doesn't _need_ your help," he insisted. "He's done fine all these years without you swooping in to save the day."

Again, Mariano backed off. "I'm sorry," he insisted, sincerely. "I didn't mean to imply you needed any help in raising him or that he's going without in life. I'm sure you're doing a fine job and that Jess is a great kid."

"He _is_," Luke interjected, forcefully. "And he doesn't need anybody else coming in to his life, trying to screw things up and mess with his head. I _will not_ let that happen."

"And I'd be the first to agree with you. I don't want to cause trouble for the kid and I'm sorry about the bar. It was a lapse in judgement and it won't happen again. I'd just like a chance to get to know my grandson a little better. Can't we just start there and see what happens?"

For a moment, Luke was silent. Inwardly, he weighed his options. The more the older man talked, the more Luke was inclined to believe he _was_ Jess' grandfather though he was still inclined to search for the proof. But if he was related to Jess then didn't the kid have the right to get to know him? His own, personal insecurities aside, as his nephew had said only the previous night, how many of his good-for-nothing relatives actually _wanted_ to see him? And here was this guy, a man who could actually offer him something worthwhile – who was he to deny the kid that?

All the same, Luke Danes was not about to welcome this stranger with open arms. However, though he didn't like him that didn't mean Jess couldn't. Either way, he reluctantly supposed the old guy deserved a chance. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if the three of us got together at some point," he relented, putting extra emphasis on the 'three' part. Franklin seemed to breathe a sigh of gratitude.

"That would be terrific. What if I took Jess to dinner some time this week? Gave us all a chance to get to know one another a little better?"

Luke placed his hands on his hips. "Jess is grounded," he pointed out, sharply. Franklin raised a querulous eyebrow.

"He is?"

The younger man smiled, sarcastically. "Yeah. See I don't know how you raise kids in the lucrative world of real estate but in the hum-drum world of diners and flipping burgers, when a kid skips school and hangs out in a bar, that tends to happen."

Franklin's smile was tight and thin, teetering just the right side of civility. "Of course," he conceded causing Luke to silently relish the moment. Still, he could see that a small compromise would be needed. He didn't particularly want this man in his apartment and the diner wasn't exactly good for a private conversation: too many inquisitive, prying ears and eyes from the good people of Stars Hollow.

"But I guess one night wouldn't hurt," Luke admitted. "But I don't finish work till nine," he added, thinking out loud. Franklin shrugged, neutrally.

"A late dinner doesn't bother me, if that's what you want?" Luke huffed.

"He's sick," he pointed out. "I don't want him out too late." In front of him, Franklin Mariano said nothing, merely waited for Luke to reach his conclusion. "I suppose," Luke relented, begrudgingly, "the two of you could start earlier, say around seven-thirty? I could join you later."

"If you think that's best," the old man agreed, mildly. "I noticed a little place on Main Street: _Il Ponte_?" Luke knew the one: expensive but not extravagantly so.

"Tomorrow then," Luke said. "If Jess agrees." With a smile that reminded Luke of the cat that got the canary, Franklin shook his hand and walked him to the door.

* * *

"So?" Jess asked, as they came to the bridge. "How'd it go?"

"How'd what go?"

Jess rolled his eyes. "The interview – did you get the promotion? The meeting with my grandfather!" he exclaimed, in exasperation. "You did go to see him, didn't you?" Luke laughed, lightly.

"Yeah, ok. I did," he admitted. He'd only just met Jess outside of the school steps and the kid had launched on him, almost immediately.

"And? Is he the real deal?" Luke sighed and slowed up, causing Jess to follow suit.

"He seems to be, okay," he said, noting the small smile that tugged up the corner of Jess' mouth, though the kid tried to remain impassive. "At least for now," Luke added. Jess nodded, waiting for Luke to continue. His uncle sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He wants us to meet for dinner this week. Tomorrow, if you're up for it?" Jess narrowed his eyes.

"Thought I was grounded?"

"You are," Luke clarified. "You've got a one-day compassionate leave: take it or leave it but the offer's not transferable."

"I'm taking it," Jess cut in quickly. Luke grinned.

"Funny – thought you might. I can't be there till later though, so the two of you are going to have to start without me." He stopped and planted a heavy hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You order macaroni and cheese, a side of fries and a coke," he commanded, leaning in closer. "Nothing else, nothing alcoholic. And _be good_."

Jess simply shrugged out of his touch and kept on walking. "So what does he do?" he called back to his uncle. Luke lengthened his strides to catch up which wasn't difficult given his nephew's somewhat shorter legs.

"I thought you didn't care what he did?"

Jess shrugged, defensively. "You don't have to tell me. It was just a question."

With an exasperated sigh, Luke answered him. "He's got some kind of real estate company. _Apparently_ he's very successful."

Jess raised his eyebrows. "He's loaded? Sweet."

"Jess," Luke warned but abruptly, the kid started laughing.

"I'm kidding," he insisted, shaking his head at the ease with which Luke could be wound up. He almost took the sport out of it. Almost.

"You'd better be," his uncle muttered as the diner came into view and their thoughts turned from the mysterious newcomer to their evening's activities.

* * *

Jess had finished his homework in record time, filled in behind the counter of the diner for thirty minutes or so and arrived twenty minutes early for his dinner meeting. The restaurant wasn't too classy so he'd been allowed to stay in his jeans. He'd been made to change his t-shirt though, exchanging it for a simple black shirt. He wasn't interested in impressing his grandfather but, for Luke's sake, he wouldn't embarrass his uncle in a public place: at least, not today.

Unsure what to do without the old man there and feeling the suspicious eyes of the waiting staff on him as he loitered outside the floor to ceiling windows of the restaurant, Jess decided the gently falling snow was the last push he needed to convince him to wait inside. Awkwardly, unused to conversing with strangers, he explained his situation to the hostess who promptly led him over to a reserved table and thrust a menu in his hand, leaving him with an abrupt declaration that his server would be with him shortly. Apparently, Grandpa Mariano liked things planned ahead.

To pass the time, Jess pulled out an old folded paperback and began to read and that was how Franklin found him, fifteen minutes later. Jess looked up in surprise as he felt someone standing over him. It always irritated him – being watched, observed, silently judged. He put down the book, laying it beside his napkin and water glass.

"I was early," he offered. Franklin smiled, widely at him taking his seat opposite leaving one in between them for Luke.

"Never explain or apologise for being prompt," the older man instructed. "It makes it look like you have nothing better to do with your time." He took his phone out and switched it off. "So we're not interrupted," he explained. Jess made no comment.

"Have you ordered?" The boy shook his head. His grandfather opened up the menu and immediately started running his finger down the list. "Well let's get something to start with then," he insisted. "I'm starved." He looked over as Jess stared, disinterestedly at the menu, secretly trying to make sense of the unfamiliar dishes. "Shall I order a variety of appetisers for the both of us to start?" the elder Mariano asked. Closing his menu, Jess simply shrugged.

"Whatever."

And Franklin smiled and signalled to their waiter.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were tucking in to a variety of breads, dips, cheeses and light meats. Jess ate reservedly picking at his food like a bird, aware that his stomach rarely let much in these days. If his companion noticed this, he made no mention of it, for which Jess was grateful.

Surprisingly, the grilling Jess had been expecting about his school and his grades and college plans, never materialised. Jess had never had grandparents but he knew a bit about them from various television shows and movies and the occasional characters in his books. Hobbies and grades and school plays and stuff – that's what grandparents were meant to talk to you about. It's a good thing his own grandfather had a wider list of topics or the evening's entertainment would prove exceedingly brief.

Instead they talked about the old man's car history, the motorcycles he'd owned in his youth and about the various places he'd travelled to. To someone who had travelled to precisely two places in his entire life, the idea of having travelled to and lived in almost every state of America was very intriguing. Though Jess couldn't contribute with his own travels or his own vehicle history, instead he wove in references from history or literature or his own, limited aspirations. His worldly knowledge might have been lacking but it was very clear that his intelligence wasn't.

"So what do you think?" Franklin asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"About what?"

"My job," the man replied. He'd shown Jess a picture of his extensive, many-storied house in Knox County and Jess was currently turning it over in his fingers.

"Selling people land? I don't know. Pays the bills, I guess."

Franklin laughed. "That it certainly does. So you never pictured yourself doing something like that?" Jess regarded him, quizzically.

"Seriously?" he asked. Franklin nodded and Jess laughed but not unpleasantly. "Look, if I'm not dead or in jail by the time I'm twenty-one then I've achieved just about everything I could hope for in life. It's going to be a big enough challenge just to force my way through High School. Anything else is a bonus but I sure as hell never saw myself selling land to rich, stuck-up people who have more money than sense."

"Interesting way of putting it," Franklin remarked. "But you know, I always thought there was more to life than finishing High School. I never did and I can promise you, my life turned out just fine." Jess regarded him, incredulously.

"You've got to be the first adult I've met who doesn't think getting a diploma is the be all and end all of life."

"I'm not saying it doesn't do the world of good for some," the old man remarked. "But for others, it just isn't necessary to get where they're going in life. What about your mother?" he asked. "What does she think about it?"

Jess glanced down at the table. "Don't know," he admitted, quietly. "She probably doesn't care. I don't talk to her much." His grandfather leant back, observing him with an outwardly impassive expression.

"Yes. I think Luke mentioned something about that. That must be difficult, though, surely? Not being able to see her?" Jess laughed, bitterly.

"I've been through worse torments."

"You'd be surprised," Franklin remarked, softly. "I bet she misses you." Suddenly, he turned to a sound by the door. Expecting Luke, Jess turned too. It was however, not his uncle but a small middle-aged man in an expensive grey suit. He waved when he spotted Jess and his companion.

"Franklin!" he called out, coming to stand by their table. "How the devil are you, old man? I see you arrived at the right time – they're still waiting to clear me a table."

"Clarence!" Franklin rose and shook the man's hand. "Fancy meeting you here." He looked down at Jess who had immediately started trying to make himself look as small as possible. It didn't seem to matter how old you were – when adults met their friends in public, you didn't want to be anywhere near them.

"This is my grandson, Jess," he said, indicating the boy with one hand. Clarence beamed down at him making Jess fight the urge to scowl, darkly. Then his grandfather did what he'd been praying he wouldn't. "Won't you join us for a quick drink?" he asked, indicating the empty seat. Now Jess did scowl though he had the grace to look away as he did it.

And in no time at all, Clarence Bigwell was seated in-between Jess and his grandfather, eagerly telling Jess what a fantastic guy his grandfather was, what a brilliant piece of land he was selling him and how nice it was to meet such an obviously intelligent young man, like himself. How Jess longed to excuse himself and slip out the back exit for a smoke. However, the pride he could sense coming from his grandfather whenever he spoke of Jess' sharp wit and focused brain was strangely alluring.

And by the time Luke arrived at the end of the evening, intent on exchanging brief pleasantries and enjoying an after-dinner drink with them, Jess was glad to see his uncle. He was, however, oddly disappointed that his grandfather's attention had once more been divided and silently angled how best to get Luke to agree to another meeting, this time, alone.

* * *

The phone was answered on the eleventh ring, just as the Cadillac pulled on to the highway.

"Ugh…hello?" The voice was slurred, sluggish.

"Elizabeth."

"Huh? Who…who is this? Wha…what time is it?"

"Elizabeth. I'm glad I caught you." The road cleared and the car picked up speed, cutting through the night.

"Is it late?" she mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall, the phone cradled insecurely under her chin. The vodka was making it hard to stand, and listen and talk but the glass remained surprisingly steady in her hand.

"Elizabeth, this is Franklin Mariano: your ex-husband's father." There was silence on the other end of the line. Then:

"Frank? What…_Jimmy's_ dad?" She was hesitant, uncertain, not sure if the whole conversation was real or down to the alcohol. "Why…why are you calling me? Shit, what time is it?"

"Elizabeth." His voice was smooth and hard, like marble. "I'm on my way to see you now and I think you're going to want to let me in. I've just come from Stars Hollow and I have a proposition for you that I believe you're going find _very _beneficial."

* * *

Okay, once again that's it for now. I'm sorry this chapter dragged on a bit but I wanted to include certain things in it and it just ended up going on a bit! Thank you if you managed to stick with it all the way to the end. I also don't know whether a US driver's liscense would show the county you lived in. I'm sorry if that part's inaccurate.

Now could you just go that teensy extra step and let me know what you thought? Thank you and I'll hopefully see you next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Fire and Ice – Chapter 8

_Yeesh! Again? _– I still don't own them…

So, I'm nearing the end of my vacation, which always puts me in a writing frenzy. Go figure. I just hope I can keep it up when I start back at work next week. :-) A huge thank you to everyone who was kind enough to review. I've tried to reply to everyone I could but I know I haven't been able to say thank you to _**Sisterdear**_(yes, Frankie and slime definitely go together!) and _**SaySummer**_ (hopefully this update was quick enough:-)).

I'm really glad there are people out there who are still enjoying this.

* * *

Three days had passed since the dinner with Franklin and activities in the Danes household had resumed their normal scheduling. To Jess' secret disappointment, his grandfather had not called nor made an unscheduled appearance. Inwardly, Luke breathed a sigh of relief glad that, temporarily at least, their lives could continue without interruption.

He kept his relief to himself, however, pricked with guilt at the downcast expression of disappointment that the older man would often see fleet across his nephew's face when the boy thought he was unobserved. It was more than just disappointment. Jess _expected_ to be let down by those he pinned his hopes on. The disappointment was tinged with the embarrassment of a naivety he felt he should have out-grown.

So, Luke had done his best to jolly him along. Whenever Rory came in to the diner, Luke would coincidentally offer Jess a quick ten-minute break while Luke would engage Lorelai in mutual banter, leaving Jess to sit and swap opinions on music, films and books with the talented young lady who his nephew was obviously taken with. Luke just happened to choose Jess' particular favourite dishes to make for dinners, including one from childhood that Jess had forgotten he even liked. Luke hadn't, though.

Little, useless facts about his nephew had been stored up in some remote part of the man's brain: his first bike was black with red flames; Luke took the stabilisers off when Jess was four after the boy had pleaded with him that he was ready; he was scared of Mumm-Ra in that _Thundercats_ cartoon but sat close to the television screen whenever the show was on, to prove that he wasn't and when Jess was worn out, he played and toyed with clothing. It had been obvious when he was little: he'd crawl into Luke's lap, rest his head against his chest and absently twist and pull at the buttons on his uncle's shirt.

Now, of course, it was more subtle but still there if you looked hard enough – the toying of a loose thread on his jeans pocket, rubbing the material of his sleeves through in his fingers. It made Luke smile whenever he saw it. Sometimes, that little boy he thought had been lost all those years ago was clearly sitting right there in front of him.

It was nearing the end of a busy Monday and though Jess was still filling orders behind the counter, Luke could see that he was winding down. The kid tired more easily lately and Luke had just decided to send him upstairs early when an insistent voice sounded behind him, making him turn, wearily.

"Hello? Are you _ever_ going to serve me?" Lorelai dramatically waved her empty coffee mug under his nose for her second refill. Luke narrowed his eyes:

"Knowing my luck, probably in this world _and_ the next." He nevertheless, poured the steaming black liquid from the coffee pot in his hand, into her expectant cup. She gasped with relief and took a long gulp before sitting back with a satisfied expression.

"In the next world, Luke," she declared, "you and I will reign side by side. Trust me." She winked at him, causing Luke to roll his eyes but smile begrudgingly. "Stick with me and I'll see you're taken care of."

Luke blinked and shook his head, once. "Taken care of? I feel like I should be kissing your ring," he muttered.

She gasped and wiggled her eyebrows. "Dirty!"

"Stop that."

His friend chuckled. "Oh but Luke, you're just too easy to tease. You need to be less teasable." Seeing that the conversation was bound to progress beyond a couple of exchanges, Luke pulled out a chair at her table and sat down. "You're as bad as Jess," he scolded, lightly. She grinned, wickedly at him and took another sip of her coffee.

"So how's he doing?" she asked, quietly. "He looks okay." Luke quickly glanced over his shoulder at the young man, leaning against the counter, eyes glued to his book rather than the customer standing by the till. He rolled his eyes but made no move to step in. Jess would notice the customer before too long – he always did.

"He's doing okay," Luke answered, turning back round to face the young woman. "I think he might be getting a cold, though. He's been coughing a lot and his breathing sounds a little wheezy at night." He shrugged. "I'm keeping fluids in him, ramming as much medicine down his throat as he'll tolerate." She patted his hand, knowingly.

"Keep him drugged. That's the best thing."

He glared at her, though without malice. "That Rory survived to seventeen continually astounds me." Suddenly, the door opened. With a clear view of the door, Luke groaned when he saw who it was.

"Ooh!" Lorelai enthused, her back to the door. "From your fallen expression, I'm going to say…Taylor?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "No?" she guessed. "Kirk? Does he have a basket? Is he selling something?"

"No," Luke hissed, leaning in closer to her. Curiously, she did the same. "Would you keep your voice down? It's Jess' grandfather."

"Whoa there, Tonto. Back up a step. _Who_?" Luke sighed, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah, it's the latest development in the soap opera that is my life. Jess' iffy, 'suspiciously out of no-where' grandfather turned up about a week ago. Apparently he's some rich hotshot from the mid-west who's come here to start sniffing around Jess."

Mouth hanging open, coffee mug placed back on the table, she smacked him in the middle of the chest. "How could you not tell _me_, your best friend about this?" she demanded in mock indignation.

"I'm sorry. I'll be sure to put up a bulletin board on the wall over there to keep you posted."

"That's okay," she said, patting his arm. "You're forgiven. Fill me in now?"

He smiled but shook his head. "Later. I'd better go see what he wants." She returned his smile, eyes curiously following the progress of the mysterious man she now knew to be related to her taciturn young acquaintance.

"You go," she insisted, waving him on.

Luke rose from the table and walked over to Franklin, intercepting the old man before he could make it to the counter and manoeuvred him into a corner of the diner.

"You're here," he remarked, arms folded.

Franklin raised an amused eyebrow. "Since Jess is grounded, I assumed this would be the only place to see him." He hesitated, eyeing the young diner owner, carefully. "I'm sorry. Should I have called ahead first?" Luke narrowed his eyes.

"_Any_ phone call might have been nice!" he snapped. "Jess will never say it but the kid's got insecurities heaped upon insecurities. When you take off for three days without so much as a word, he's going to think the worst." The old man shook his head, regretfully.

"I didn't know that," he admitted. He then paused, a distinct twinkle in his eye. "I must admit, I didn't realise young Jess would be that keen to see me again. That _is_ interesting."

"Yeah well," Luke groused, turning away from the older man, "kids like novelties. They soon wear off."

Franklin chuckled. "Do they now? What do you say I go talk to the young man? Don't want to keep him waiting any longer." Without another word, Franklin brushed past Luke and headed straight for the counter.

Jess, for his part, had spotted his uncle and grandfather talking in the corner. His eyes had momentarily widened when he'd seen the older man, then his expression had schooled itself back in to its look of general disinterest. He half wondered if the man had only come to talk to Luke, that perhaps he wasn't worth the effort after all. Perhaps his grandfather had done a little more background digging on him and discovered what a waste of time the kid really was?

His hopes rose then, when he saw the old man walking over to him, Luke following behind his expression clearly distasteful. His uncle didn't like the old man – that, Jess could read easily. He only hoped that wasn't going to cause a problem if Luke decided to put his foot down. His hands, hidden behind the counter, apprehensively began to play with the cleaning cloth.

When his grandfather approached him, Jess suddenly found words to be in short supply. "Hi," he offered, quietly as the old man stood, grinning widely in greeting.

"Hello yourself," Franklin remarked in amusement. "Why don't you come on out from behind that counter so I can see you properly?" Jess cast a hesitant glance at Luke who, although he didn't look entirely happy, gave him a small smile and nodded his head towards the old man. Jess immediately came around to the other side of the counter and stood, awkwardly in front of them. Franklin beamed and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder.

"Jess," Luke said, quietly. "I think you're done here, for the night. Why don't I get the two of you something to eat and you can sit here and talk?" Jess nodded, grateful to his uncle for not kicking up a fuss. Whatever he'd wanted to say, Luke had obviously said his piece to his grandfather when he took him aside. His hands shoved shyly in his pockets, Jess indicated one of the tables near the counter with an inclination of his head. There were tables free by the window but Luke would want to keep an eye on them, preferring them close to hand and, Jess considered, giving him that small compromise seemed like the least he could do.

"That's very generous of you, Luke," Franklin remarked accepting Jess' silent offer of the table. He took the seat facing the door. Luke smiled, thinly.

"It won't be anything like that restaurant you went to the other day but it's made fresh."

"It's good," Jess insisted to his grandfather, quietly, making Luke smile.

"You've got me sold," Franklin declared. Luke started to hand him a menu but the older man waved it off. "Whatever you recommend," he insisted. "And a coffee, if you would?"

Luke nodded. "Jess?" The kid shrugged but Luke just scribbled something down on the order pad. "I'll surprise you." Then he leaned down to the boy and placed a light hand on his shoulder. "Not too long okay," he said, softly. "You're looking worn out." Again, Jess simply nodded and Luke walked away towards the kitchen, running a very quick hand through his nephew's hair as he went.

With eagle eyes and an expression that never changed, Franklin took it all in and when Luke was safely in the kitchen, he leaned back in his seat. "It's good to see you again, Jess. I'm sorry I didn't call." Jess kept his eyes fixed on the table, a look of careful indifference on his face.

"S'okay. I didn't see your car round town." His grandfather smiled, apologetically.

"I'm afraid I had to go away on business for a couple of days. It was very last minute." Jess nodded. He'd never known adults who needed to _go away on business_ and accepted the excuse almost for the novelty value. At that moment, Luke returned with their drinks, placing a cup of black coffee in front of Franklin and a coke in front of Jess. The kid mumbled his thanks.

"You're far too kind, Luke," Franklin exclaimed, graciously, pulling the mug towards him. Luke shot him a sideways glance and crossed something out in his order pad.

"Well I'd better not over-do it then," he said. "Cream and sugar are on the counter – you can get those yourself." And with that, he moved away to deal with the next customer, ears still surreptitiously trained on the pair of them. Franklin watched him go, a knowing, almost appreciative smirk on his face. His gaze fell upon the counter, scanning for the items he wanted. Before he could move, however, Jess quickly got to his feet.

"I'll get them," he muttered, making a quick dash to the counter to retrieve the sugar and milk. From across the room, Luke's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jess volunteered to fetch something? And more to the point, he would swear the kid sounded embarrassed. When Jess returned to his table, he placed the objects down apologetically. Franklin chuckled.

"He's just being protective, Jess," the old man assured him, pouring the cream into his coffee. "I don't take any offence, I promise you." He kept his eyes trained on his grandson's face carefully, until Jess finally looked up and offered him a slight but genuine smile. "So," the old man announced. "When does your imprisonment end?" Jess grimaced, lightly.

"Couple more days. He settled on a week once he calmed down."

Franklin raised a mildly curious eyebrow. "He fly off the handle a lot?" Jess gave a short, affectionate laugh and shook his head.

"He's all hot air and steam, you know? He's a push-over underneath." His grandfather smiled, politely, his mind elsewhere for a moment. For the next twenty minutes, the two generations of Marianos, drank their drinks while Franklin talked about his various travels across Europe and America. For the most part it was pleasant, unconstrained conversation. Presently, Franklin took a sip of his drink and leant forwards, resting his arms on the table.

"So," he said. "What are the chances do you think of my getting you to another dinner, say tomorrow evening?" Jess looked hesitant and glanced to where Luke had just disappeared to in the kitchen.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Not likely. He'll probably say I've got to wait till the end of the sentence."

"I thought you said he was a big push-over?" There was amused accusation in the old man's voice. Jess blushed.

"Yeah, well…you just need to get him in a good mood." Franklin tapped the side of his nose.

"You leave the asking to me," he said, knowingly.

Jess stated incredulously at him. "But he's never in a good mood when he sees you."

His grandfather laughed. "Just leave it in my hands." Then he suddenly started, as if remembering something. "Jess," he said. "I almost forgot. I picked something up for you. It's in my case. Lean down and get it for me, would you?" Surprised, Jess leant down by the side of the table where the brown leather case he hadn't even noticed before, was lying. He lifted it up to the table and, with a reassuring nod from his grandfather, opened it and looked inside. Aside from a sheaf of what he assumed to be business papers, a simple package wrapped in plain brown paper lay tucked in a side pocket of the interior. Assuming this was what he was meant to find, curiosity abounding, Jess pulled it out and replaced the case on the floor.

He held it in his hands and looked, questioningly at his grandfather. "What is it?" Franklin simply pursed his lips.

"Customarily, you have to unwrap it to find out. Forgive the packaging – I didn't think it would matter too much to you and I had to make do with what I had to hand."

Jess smirked. Carelessly, he ripped the packaging off, letting it drop to the floor beside him. He would pick it up later, if Luke didn't get to it first. What he was left with was a small, thin dark red leather book with gold leafing. Surprised, he turned it over in his hands and opened the front cover. He looked quizzically at his grandfather, mouth dropped.

"But this…"

The old man cut in. "I have a friend who runs an auction house and I ran across him when I was finishing up my business. He was having a charity auction and asked me to bid on something. Anything that caught my eye, he said." He paused and took a sip of coffee, leaving Jess to pour over the book in his hands. "When this item came up, I thought you might appreciate it. _The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby_. I assume you've read it."

"It's a first edition," Jess sputtered, flicking through the pages as though they were gold dust. His grandfather merely raised his eyes, nonchalantly though it was clear he was loving the young man's astounded reaction.

"You like it then?"

Suddenly, Jess' expression fell and he gently placed the book back on the table. "I can't take it," he said, softly. Leaning back, his grandfather sighed.

"Well that's a shame. I can't get my money back – it's for charity, you know. And I have no interest in books, I'm afraid." He eyed the boy, carefully. Jess' eyes twitched but he still said nothing, gaze fixed on the table. "Do you like it?" he pressed. Jess flicked his eyes up quickly.

"It's great."

"Then what's the problem?"

For a second or two, Jess remained silent but just as his grandfather made to prompt him again, he sighed. "I'm not worth this," he muttered, quietly, bitterness lacing his words. "You're only going to figure that out and then want it back."

Franklin leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat, sharply. "I'll thank you to credit me with enough sense to know my own mind," he reproached, gently. Jess shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, willing the flush he could feel in his cheeks, to abate. Franklin merely waved off the apology.

"Now," the old man continued, pointedly pushing the book back towards Jess, "if we can make that dinner tomorrow, I may have something else to surprise you with. But in the mean time, what do you think that uncle of yours has cooked up for us?" And Jess gave a small smile and quietly tugged the book closer towards him.

"We're about to find out," he remarked as he spotted Luke emerging from the kitchen, two plates in hand. When he reached them, Luke handed Jess a burger and fries and in front of Franklin, he slapped down a steak with trimmings. "It's medium-rare," he informed him with an attempt at civility. "I hope that's okay."

"Quite so," the gentleman replied. Luke was about to walk away when his eyes suddenly fell on the small leather book, tucked securely by Jess' hands.

"What's that?" he wondered. Casting a hesitant look to his grandfather, Jess handed the book to Luke.

"It's a first edition," Jess explained. "Franklin got it for me at some auction." Luke turned the book over in his hands and gave out a low whistle.

"Must have cost a bit," he remarked, lightly. Luke fixed Franklin with what appeared to be a polite smile. "You shouldn't have." He paused and handed the book back to Jess, who took it, feeling a little embarrassed. "It's great, Jess," he assured the teenager. Then he looked at Franklin. "Thanks. It was a thoughtful gift." The old man grinned and waved away the thanks.

"Nonsense. Grandparents are _supposed_ to spoil their grandchildren rotten. And besides, when else is he going to get an opportunity like that?"

Luke ignored him though the implication was clearly received. "Jess," he said. "When you're done with your burger, I want you to head on upstairs, okay? You've got homework to finish then you need to get some rest." He placed his hand on the kid's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Jess looked up at his uncle and nodded.

"Sure," he agreed, then looked back down at his food again. Unused to such easy acquiescence from his nephew, Luke was momentarily taken aback.

"Okay then," he said, a little uncertainly before leaving the two of them to their meals. As he walked past Lorelai, he noticed her gathering her coat and scarf together, obviously preparing to leave. He headed to the till and sure enough, she walked with him. When they were out of earshot from Jess, she handed Luke the money for her check.

"So," she said quietly, leaning over the register to talk to him. "He seems nice."

"Who?" he asked, taking her bill and sorting through the drawers for her change.

"The mysterious stranger," she remarked with a devilish smile. "He's kinda cute, actually." Luke rolled his eyes. "I'm serious!"

"He's old enough to be your _father_," Luke pointed out, handing her the change.

"He's… distinguished," she countered, taking a subtle peek over her shoulder and winking at Luke. "And rich. I can live with that." He folded his arms, leaned back and fixed her with a deadpan stare.

"It would make you Jess' grandmother."

"Ah." She stopped and pretended to think it over. "Um…yup romance going…going…yes, romantic notions gone. Thank you for your assistance." He smirked.

"Any time. Are you done now?"

She grinned. "Absolutely. But seriously, he looks nice."

"Uh huh."

"And you hate him."

Luke shot her a look that clearly told her she was being ridiculous. "I do not." He grabbed a cloth from under the counter and began enthusiastically wiping the surface down, studiously ignoring her.

"Yes you do," she argued. "I can tell when you hate someone. Admit it."

"I do not _hate_ him," Luke insisted, keeping his voice low. "I just dislike him." He thought for a moment. "And disapprove of him, find him distasteful…distrust him."

"That's a lot of 'dissing' you're doing there, Luke."

"Did you say you were going?" Luke enquired with forced politeness, looking at her pointedly. She huffed and wrapped her red woolly scarf loosely round her neck, slinging her bag over one shoulder.

"Fine. I do need to be going." She jabbed a finger in his face. "But denial is not just a river in Egypt, buddy."

"Thank you for your custom. Good day."

She grinned at him but before she left, Lorelai leaned across the counter and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering in his ear: "You're still his favourite, you know." Then she was off, leaving Luke shaking his head, a smile playing on his lips.

* * *

Luke had no idea how it had happened. He wouldn't have thought it possible but somehow, through a mixture of manipulation, cajoling and heavy doses of guilt, Luke had agreed to let Jess and Franklin meet for dinner. _Again_. Alone this time _and_ on a school night. Shaking his head, as Luke sliced his apple into his morning cereal, he still wasn't sure how the old coot had managed it. Slippery as an eel, that old timer was.

"Jess!" Luke called, eyeing the closed bathroom door. "Get a move on, you're going to be late for school." Caesar was doing the breakfast crowd that morning, giving Luke a well-needed late start. Not that Luke started late. He was still up at a ridiculously early time but the habit was well drilled in to him.

"Jess!" Luke called again when no response was forthcoming. He briefly considered banging on the door. Finally, a few minutes later, Jess emerged. He didn't look at his uncle, just mumbled something incoherent and hurried past him.

"Whoa," Luke said, snagging the boy's arm. The kid's face was pale and drawn, his eyes bright. "You feeling okay?" Quickly, he tried to put an assessing hand on his forehead but his nephew was quicker, pulling away and heading for the door.

"I'm fine," Jess snapped. "And before you ask, I'm not hungry." He turned away from Luke, grateful that his uncle had momentarily turned away, too and towards the kitchen counter. That meant he never saw the hand Jess shot out to grab a hold of the nearby chair, steadying him as a wave of dizziness washed over the boy. He had it under control by the time Luke returned with a plate of toast. He wasn't going to be sick today, Jess thought, determinedly. His grounding was almost over, he had a dinner with his grandfather that night and he simply _was not_ going choose _now_ of all times, to come down with a cold.

"Jess," Luke started, doing his utmost to keep the nag out of his voice. "Just take a slice of toast with you," he reasoned. "Remember, you need to keep your strength up." Jess looked at him, apprehension written all over his pale features. "For _tonight_," Luke insisted in a not-too subtle threat. Sighing heavily, Jess took two steps towards his uncle and snagged a slice of toast off the plate.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Are you coming or what? I presume I still need my personal escort across the street?" So, feeling the absence of his own breakfast, Luke left his cereal half-eaten on the table as he grabbed his jacket.

"Come on," his uncle announced, moving ahead of Jess and opening the door. The sooner he walked the kid to school, the sooner he could get back to his leisurely morning. He allowed Jess to walk past him before following, locking the door as he went.

"Mail's out here," Jess remarked, bending to retrieve the small stack of letters from where it lay at the top of the staircase. More often than not, their mailman lacked both the impetus and the initiative to knock on the door. Luke sighed and took it off his nephew. There was rarely ever anything for Jess and they were so used to that fact, Jess never bothered looking through it. As they walked down stairs, Luke began to absently leaf through the pile. Bills, bank statement: same old same old, he thought to himself. But as they reached the bottom step and Jess pushed his way through the curtain, the last envelope in the pile stopped Luke in his tracks.

The markings were from New York and the letter addressed to Mr Lukas M Danes. He was never referred to as 'Lukas' – even by the bank and utilities. Only lawyers and the taxman were so formal. The letter wasn't weighty, but it felt official, ominous. Jess had stopped, waiting for him and Luke now realised the boy was all the way by the diner's door.

"Luke?" he called back, an irritated question in his voice. The teenager held his hands up as if to ask his uncle what the problem was. Distracted by the envelope in his hand, Luke waved his nephew on. Jess, however, just rolled his eyes and stalked back over to his uncle.

"What's the problem?" he demanded. Luke quickly shoved the letter back to the bottom of the pile. For some reason, he felt it wasn't something he wanted Jess to see.

"It's nothing, Jess." Luke insisted. "Look, why don't you go on?" Jess staggered back a few steps, hand clutching at his heart.

"On my _own_?" he gasped. "_All_ the way there? Are you sure?" Luke narrowed his eyes and swatted him over the head with the stack of letters.

"Stop being a smart-ass and get to school." And Jess gave a short laugh.

"I'll see you after school," he said then left his uncle by the steps and headed off to another day of tedium.

Once Jess was safely out of the building, Luke tore open the envelope and pulled out the thick weave paper with the embossed header. It looked expensive, upmarket and reeked of a law firm. Immediately, his eyes began scanning the contents of the letter and the more he read, the more his disbelief grew and the deeper the gnawing in his gut buried. By the time he had absorbed the words on the page, Luke hadn't even noticed he had sunk heavily to the bottom step, one fist clutching the screwed-up envelope and the hand that held the letter, shaking: shaking with rage, adrenaline and with fear.

* * *

Right. Once more, that's it for now. Please be kind enough to let me know what you think. And yes, I made up the initial of Luke's middle name because I have no idea what it is. This chapter is kind of the calm before the storm…things are going heat up next chapter, I promise!


	9. Chapter 9

Fire and Ice – Chapter 9

I don't own anyone – still

A/N

Once again a thousand thank yous for the lovely reviews – they certainly do make speedy updates easier :-) Thank you to _**Sandy**_, _**Obsessed wiv everything**_, _**Sisterdear**_, _**SaySummer**_, and _**laxchick**_. I'd also like to, politely, clear something up permanently and I'm sorry this note is so long but I think I've caused a bit of confusion :-)

Rory is an important character in the show _and_ to Jess but not this early on in the game. They haven't had their big bonding sessions yet and she's still just the girl he finds attractive. I don't believe she'd play _that_ important a role in his life just yet. If she has a point to the story, a conversation Jess can have with her that he couldn't with anyone else, then I'm happy to put her in. Otherwise, this isn't about Jess' growing relationship with Rory. If you like, it's the behind the scenes moments when he _isn't _on screen with Rory, what he's like _away_ from her. They still have their little conversations – those still go on – I'm just not going to write about them unless they serve a higher purpose.

Teeny bit of bad language in this one.

* * *

The cereal lay soggy in the bowl, forgotten on the table. Down below in the diner, a steady stream of customers came and went, business as usual. Upstairs in the apartment, Luke still sat on the couch as he finished re-reading the letter for the fourth time. He half hoped that each reading would reveal a hidden message, a new meaning he hadn't yet deciphered but in reality it actually made a sickening kind of sense, to him. The law firm, _Samuelson, House and Samuelson_ were politely detached, as only lawyers _could be_ in their deliverance:

_Elizabeth Danes has raised concerns over the physical custody of her son…acting on her behalf…motions currently under way to review the situation…be in touch to keep all relevant parties informed…situation to be resolved to the best interests of the relevant parties_. It went on but that was the gist of it and Luke could well imagine who Liz was insinuating _would_ be in the best interests of her son!

Like she had _any_ idea! It made his blood boil just thinking about it. Hadn't he turned his life upside down for this kid? Hadn't he accepted the boy into his life with barely an argument? And did she see? Did she _know_ that he was going to school now? Did she know what a civilised conversation with her son could sound like? Hell, what _any_ conversation could sound like? But none of that mattered to his sister – she was too wasted to care who she used and who she hurt.

Finally, he put the letter down and sat back. Taking his cap off, he ran his hands through his hair, gripping it tightly and tugging at the roots as if to stimulate his brain. He needed to clear his head, think rationally. Liz was prone to erratic decisions – she changed her mind as often as the tides. Surely this was just a phase? Something that would be gone as quickly as it arrived? But no. Lawyers? Official letters? That wasn't Liz. She barely had the money to put together the postage, much less pay a powerful law firm in Long Island. Thuggish boyfriends sent in a drunken stupor without any thought to consequence: _that_ was Liz. This? This reeked of a certain conniving old man who had the money to throw around and the morals of weasel. And if Franklin was the one pulling the strings, there was no telling how long she could keep this up.

A sudden thought stuck him. What rights did he actually have? Luke rose quickly to his feet. A battered old filing cabinet, left over from when his father had used the room as an office, still held all of Luke's important documents, going back…well, he couldn't even remember. A pile of boxes stood in front of it, filled with odds and ends he'd packed up to make room for Jess' bed and the few possessions the kid had brought with him. Liz was yet to ship the rest of his belongings but that didn't surprise him.

Hastily, Luke pushed the boxes aside and yanked open the drawer. Pushing reams of papers and documents aside, he began furiously flicking through the most recent section. There must be something, he thought. He paused a moment, his mind trying to recall. _Was_ there anything? Did Liz send _any_ actual document that stated he had _any_ rights with Jess? With a sinking heart, Luke soon realised she didn't: nothing official, nothing to stand on. No, the only thing she'd sent with Jess was a one-way bus ticket. Was she free to just send the kid wherever she felt like? He was a glorified child-minder in her eyes, a temporary fix to a problem: nothing more.

Looking around his apartment, Luke was nearly overcome by the sudden, burgeoning anger. It made him want to scream, throw something, smash something – it seared up inside of him, screaming to erupt. But as he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, his muscles tingling a light knock at the door broke the moment, expunging the waves of anger and releasing them into the air. He took a slow, shaky breath.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Luke?" It was Caesar, sounding unusually apprehensive. Did he know? Luke suddenly wondered. Was it common knowledge to everyone but him? No. He dismissed that idea as utterly foolish and paranoid. More than likely, Caesar was just uneasy with his boss' strange absence, out of character for the usually workaholic owner.

"Yeah?" Luke asked wearily, still unwilling to open the door. He heard the man on the other side hesitate a moment.

"It's getting pretty busy down there. Are you going to be long?"

Luke took one last look around his apartment and at the root of all these problems still lying where he'd left it on the couch. He shook his head, cleared his thoughts and made a concerted mental effort to push the distraction to the back of his mind. No matter what was brewing in the background, the life of a diner still went on.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm coming now," he called back. "Just go on down and I'll be there in a minute." A moment later he heard his friend retreat back down the stairs and took a deep, calming breath, blowing it out slowly, composing himself. This would work out, he told himself firmly. Somehow, this would all work itself out in the end. Somehow.

* * *

He'd fallen on the third lap round the gym, going down hard on his side. He was thinner than he had been in months and it seemed the lack of padding as he hit the floor made the pain that much sharper. Jess winced as he tried to take in a breath, only to find a lancing pain shoot across his ribs. He hoped they weren't damaged but either way there was going to be a colourful bruise decorating his side before the day was out: a kindly reminder of his less than graceful tumble. If Jess had been a person who gave a damn over the regard of others, he probably would have been mortified. Luckily, he wasn't and simply dragged himself shakily to his feet and painfully limped to the side of the room, sinking down onto the bleachers.

Once there, he instinctively leant forwards, resting his head on his folded arms. It had started a couple of days ago: the tingle in his chest, the rawness of his throat, the pain shooting up and down his arms. But it had been bearable. On waking that morning, Jess had been greeted with a gently thumping headache and a more insistent ache in his chest and lungs. He'd felt clammy and hot. But again, he could cope.

As the day had worn on, however, these things had only grown until, quite out of no-where, his legs had turned to jelly, his vision swum and his breath come out in short, painful gasps. He didn't even realise he was on his way down until he registered the impact. In short, Jess Mariano felt terrible. All he wanted to do was to crawl back under his covers, safely tucked up in bed, maybe with a cup of that soup Luke sometimes made when he was sick or feeling low and a huge dose of Tylenol.

But if he admitted he was sick, Luke would want to know how long it had been going on for. There was no way he would believe this all started at nine am that morning. Then he'd been in for it for trying to hide his symptoms. And more than that, Jess was sure Luke would use it as a reason why visits with his grandfather should be postponed. He wouldn't even be able to steal a conversation with Rory in the diner, in one of the few moments when she wasn't joined at the hip to either her mother, Lane or that gibbon of a boyfriend.

His hands were lightly trembling and Jess quickly clasped them between his knees in an effort to conceal it.

"Jess?" Coach Mason was jogging up beside him, finally seeming to notice he had a student down. "You feeling all right?" His head still bowed because when he moved, the pain seemed to roll to the other side of it, Jess gave a quiet, affirmative grunt.

The absence of a flippant reply or wisecrack remark immediately rang alarm bells in the teacher's mind. Faculty had all been briefed on the accident, a couple of weeks prior and asked to watch for side effects. So far, none had really shown up. He knelt down in front of the young man as the rest of the class obediently remained lapping the room. Hesitantly, aware he was liable to lose an eye if he got too close, Coach Mason peered under Jess' sunken head and caught a glimpse of a pale face, flushed cheeks and perspiration beading his forehead.

"Do you want to go to the office?" he asked. "They can call your guardian?"

Immediately, Jess looked up, biting back the bile. He shook his head in what he hoped was a steady, assertive manner. "No," he insisted. "I'll be fine. I just…need to sit out for a while." The coach thought about it. Jess looked pretty down but he didn't seem as though he were about to collapse and after all, this was the last period. There wasn't much more of school to get through.

He stood up, took a step back and nodded. "If you're sure," he said. "Sit here and rest for as long as you need to, then hit the locker room and get changed. If you finish up before class is over, just head to your homeroom, ok?" He pulled a hall pass from his tracksuit pocket, took the pen from around his neck and filled it out with a hasty scribble. He handed it to Jess who took it quickly before his shaking hands became obvious.

Gratefully, Jess nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled. Coach Mason hid his surprise at the less than hostile exchange with their resident problem student, gave the kid a brief reassuring smile and then jogged back to the rest of his class, blowing the whistle to end their circuits, which was met with a chorus of relieved groans.

Jess glanced over at the large clock on the wall. It was twenty past two. Not too long to wait before getting home but long enough to give him time to get his act together before he ran in to his uncle. A sharp round of coughing wracked his body for a moment and Jess immediately turned his head away, his face screwed up in pain. Hastily, surreptitiously, he wiped away the treacherous tears that had sprung to his eyes. After taking a few more moments to get his breathing back under control, forcing his lungs to try and take longer, slower breaths Jess pushed himself to his feet and carefully made his way into the changing rooms.

* * *

By the time ten past three had rolled up and Luke still had not emerged Jess decided it was stupid to continue waiting for him. If Luke tried to kick up a fuss because he'd broken the man's asinine stipulations of his punishment then Jess was quite prepared to throw it right back in his face. So with slow but steady progress, Jess walked back to the diner. Technically, Tuesdays were working days for him but the thought of taking orders, conversing with people, carrying plates and hot pots of coffee was just too much for him. Jess wasn't sure how he was going to get out of his shift without arousing suspicion but for the sake of his own safety and that of the customers around him, Jess knew he had to try.

He pushed open the diner's door and quickly moved past the few customers scattered at the tables and at the counter. He wasn't fooled into thinking it would be an easy shift, though. Now that school had let out, the place would very quickly fill. He could make out Luke's voice coming from the kitchen. Caesar was out serving food so Luke had to be talking to himself in there. Jess paused to consider this. The only times Luke tended to do that was when he was stressed and listening to the string of curses and expletives pouring from his uncle's mouth as the man wrestled with the grill, the teenager grimaced as he realised what a snappy, foul mood his uncle was in. That was just his luck on the day he had to worm his way out of work!

Hastily, Jess darted upstairs to the apartment. As soon as the door was safely shut behind him, Jess headed straight to the medicine cabinet, rooting through it for the packet of Tylenol. He downed three of them with a gulp of water, the sudden movement in his throat, bringing on another wave of grating coughs. Then he took a moment to splash cold water over his face until the flush in his cheeks faded a little and the sheen of perspiration temporarily disappeared.

The medication would work, he told himself, leaning heavily over the bathroom basin. He just needed to give it a few minutes. Finally, when he felt he could delay the inevitable no longer, Jess left the apartment and traipsed, heavily down the stairs.

He found Luke behind the counter, Caesar having retreated to the kitchen where the man seemed to feel most comfortable. Tentatively, Jess approached his uncle, stopping just short of reaching him. He could read the tension in his uncle's frame but when the bigger man looked up at his nephew, he just smiled. It was a tired smile, however and one that made Jess feel a sudden pang of concern for the frazzled man.

"You okay?" he asked his uncle. Then he mentally shook his head. Those weren't the pleading words he'd been planning to employ as he had trudged down stairs but they seemed the only ones that sprung to mind when he opened his mouth.

Luke forced his smile a little bigger. "Sure," he replied. Then he stopped and closed his eyes. "I forgot about school," he confessed. Jess shrugged awkwardly.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I found the way myself." Luke nodded, silently. For a moment, the two just stood there facing each other, wordlessly. Twice, Jess opened his mouth to begin his excuse only to close it again. His uncle was just looking so…odd.

"Are you sure…?" Jess started to ask.

"Yeah!" Jess blinked. If Luke was snapping it was probably time to back off.

Sighing, Jess looked up at his uncle and quietly took the dishtowel off his shoulder. "Why don't you take five minutes?" he suggested. "I'll take over here." Luke glanced down at the counter for a moment.

"Yeah," he agreed, quietly. "I'll be in the store room if anyone needs me." And with that, the man turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering sharply at the retreating back of the customer who was foolish enough to get in his way.

* * *

Luke didn't emerge in five minutes. Twenty minutes later he came out only to go straight up to the apartment. Jess watched him go with a heavy heart. Then the boy took a shaky breath, sneaking a quiet moment to himself in the kitchen, while Caesar manned the floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow and blinked back the odd tears of exhaustion that were threatening to fall then started counting off the minutes of his shift before he'd be able to leave for his meeting.

Mercifully, half an hour before his shift was due to end, Caesar showed a surprising bout of pity on Jess, given his less than affectionate feelings towards the boy and insisted he go early. Jess knew the older man's shift was due to end in ten minutes but the relief he felt at being able to stop, allowed him to push through any niggling feelings of guilt. So, leaving him dealing with the customers, Jess headed off to meet his grandfather. He was early and didn't fancy another long wait at the restaurant. Taking a chance the old man would be at the motel, Jess decided to head over there.

Irritably, he realised as he was crossing the street that he had forgotten to bring any Tylenol with him. He paused and glanced back at the now distant diner. Jess considered his options for a moment. If he went back to the apartment, he'd more than likely run into Luke, which would cause more problems than it would solve at that point. No, he decided. He'd carry on to the motel and just grit his teeth. It was only for one night. He'd confess all to Luke after that evening was over and plead a day off school the next day. Luke might grumble at him for the deception but he'd bundle him straight to bed and dose him up with things that were bound to make him feel better.

When Jess arrived at the motel he was glad to see the Caddy parked outside. He hurried to his grandfather's door.

Franklin greeted him with surprise when he answered. His tie was draped around his neck, waiting to be fixed. "Jess," he exclaimed, stepping aside so that the teenager could enter. "This is a surprise. Is everything all right?" Jess shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked in, keeping his gaze mostly to the floor.

"Yeah," he insisted. "I was just a little early." Jess paused. "Didn't want to hang around the diner any more." He glanced up. "Is that okay?"

"Absolutely. You'll have to excuse me though as I finish getting dressed." He smiled at the boy as he continued fixing his tie. Jess simply nodded. Franklin raised an eyebrow. His grandson was habitually reserved and taciturn but he was unusually so today.

"Are you sure everything's fine?" Jess sat down on the bed and nodded.

"Yup. Everything's cool," he lied. Franklin seemed to consider this for a moment before moving off to the side of the room to fetch his jacket from where it lay draped over the back of a chair.

"So have you read the book yet?" he asked, slipping in to it. Jess cleared his throat, the action turning in to heavy cough.

"Yeah," he eventually managed to say. "Most of it. I, uh…I have this friend that I thought I might lend it to, if you don't mind. They'd really love it." He looked at his grandfather to find the old man grinning at him, slyly.

"A _lady_ friend?" The tone was inquisitive but teasing. Jess narrowed his eyes.

"How did you…" he started to demand but Franklin cut in and waved off his indignation.

"Relax, Jess," he instructed. "I haven't been doing any more snooping on you." He watched as a hint of embarrassment crept onto Jess' face. "I'm just a good guesser." He observed his grandson for a moment more. "She a _special_ friend?"

Jess shrugged and shot a pointed look at his grandfather. "She's an _unavailable_ friend." He laughed, bitterly. "Hell, I'm not even sure about the friend part, sometimes. She barely talks to me." He stopped, suddenly aware of saying more than he intended but Franklin merely raised his eyebrows.

"Bats for the other team?" he enquired, dryly. Jess almost choked. He'd forgotten how candid old people, especially his grandfather, could be.

"No."

"Then never say never. Now, I've made a reservation because it seems to fill up quite early there, but what do you say we start a little earlier? I'm sure they can fit us in." And Jess nodded gratefully, pleased to see he was feeling a little better already though perhaps that was more the prospect of an early finish to the evening?

* * *

So, hand on his shoulder in an almost territorial gesture, Franklin walked with Jess, heading in to town. "How's Luke today?"

Jess hesitated. "He's fine. I think he's just tired." His grandfather nodded, slowing up as they came to a junction.

"Well he's a very busy man," he remarked, crisply. "I imagine he could use a break from it all sometimes." Jess nodded, guilt creeping in to his consciousness. More than a little of that stress was doubtless down to himself and the lack of any kind of respect or affection he showed towards his uncle. Jess had been under the deluded impression that he'd been a little better about that recently but given his uncle's stress levels, maybe not.

If Franklin noticed his guilt he made no outward show of it. The cars cleared and, almost as if he were guiding a much younger grandson, he unconsciously took Jess' arm and gave a gentle tug. However, before Jess could respond the old man suddenly shot out a hand to stop him in his tracks. Silently, Jess raised an eyebrow in question.

Franklin pointed to the other side of the street. "There's Clarence," he said. "You remember him from the other night?" Jess followed where his grandfather was pointing. Sure enough, the well-dressed Clarence Bigwell was standing by the mailbox, putting the finishing touches to an envelope's address. Jess' spirits sank just a touch. The man was about as interesting as wallpaper paste and was bound to make the evening drag on even longer. All he said though was, "Uh huh."

Franklin gave him an apologetic, yet enthusiastic smile. "You wouldn't mind if I had a quick word with him, would you? It's just good business to say hello, keep up good relations." He noticed the hesitation on the boy's face. "It'll be very quick, Jess. I promise you." Before Jess could respond however, Franklin was off, headed over to where his client stood. With a weary sigh, Jess increased his pace and caught up.

"Clarence," his grandfather was saying, giving a short wave to the man who stopped, turned and grinned. _Here we go again_, Jess thought to himself, coming up alongside his grandfather and attempting, for the old guy's sake to look pleasant. Or at least, non-threatening. "I didn't know you'd still be in town," Franklin was saying.

"I'm just on my way out," Clarence insisted. "I only came to meet with a few friends, wrap up some business. What about you? Your work here still not done?" Franklin chuckled and clapped Jess on the shoulder. The kid tried not to wince in pain. That shoulder had received quite a bit of damage when he'd gone over in gym class. "I'm still visiting my grandson," he exclaimed, beaming with pride. Clarence looked at Jess and held his hand out for the boy to shake. Jess would sooner have stuck his hand in a beehive but he would do his best not to embarrass Franklin.

He shook the hand tightly, afraid anything else would reveal the slight tremor. Clarence raised his eyebrows and whistled. "That's a good firm handshake that boy's got," he remarked appreciatively, addressing his comments to Franklin. Jess drew his hand back as quickly as he was able. It felt cold and icky though he was sure it was just his imagination. Franklin chuckled.

"The boy's really something, I can tell you and I don't mind boasting because that's a grandfather's right. Sharp as nails and bright as a button, I can tell you!" Jess almost grimaced. _Bright as a button_? God, he hated the man his grandfather turned into when he was smooth talking clients – it made him want to hurl, sometimes. Clarence seemed to be fine with it, though – he just stood there, nodding encouragingly.

"Listen, Franklin," Clarence continued. "I don't mean to keep you long but since I've got you here, have you had a chance to sign those papers yet?"

His grandfather smiled, reassuringly. "My people are just finishing up with them," he explained. "And then they'll be signed and with you ASAP. I'm sorry about all the red-tape and all – I know it's only a tiny bit of land really but I'm sure you can appreciate it needs to be done correctly." Clarence waved an all-encompassing hand.

"Of course," he agreed.

Franklin turned and fixed his eye on Jess. "Clarence here has become attached to a tiny bit of land I own out West," he explained. "Hardly bigger than an oversized garden and just as overgrown but some people see beauty in the strangest of places." Clarence shrugged, his palms upwards as if to plead guilty, same stupid wide grin on his face.

"Anyway," Franklin continued, "I'd better get some dinner in this boy before he drops from starvation – you know what an appetite these teenagers have!" Jess didn't roll his eyes _or_ grimace and was very proud of his self-restraint. Instead, the boy offered a tight-lipped smile as the two men finally said their goodbyes and each party went their separate ways.

* * *

"Let me tell you a story, Jess." Franklin leaned forwards in his chair and took a sip of wine. Across from him, Jess swallowed his mouthful of soup and sat back, expectantly. He'd learned there was little point in questioning his grandfather's motives: the man made his reasons plain when he wanted to and not before. "By all means."

"A man walked into a bar one day. At his side was a straggly old dog – a mutt but he was very fond of it, regardless." For an awful moment, Jess wondered if the 'mutt' was meant to be him.

"The man walks up to the counter," his grandfather continued, "leading the small dog with him and orders a beer. Now just as the barman is pulling it, the man gasps. He suddenly remembers he's not put any money in the parking meter and there were traffic police patrolling the street when he'd left."

"Why's he driving?"

Franklin stopped. "What?"

"You said he walked in to a bar." Jess pointed out. "What's he doing driving?"

Not quite irritably, almost amused, Franklin shrugged. "One for the road?" Jess smirked.

"Anyway," he continued. "He tells the barman that he'll be right back but that he just needs to feed the meter. Then he ties the dog's leash to one of the barstools and asks the barman if he'll please keep an eye on the dog while he's gone." He paused to take another sip of wine while Jess continued to wait patiently, willing the pain in his lungs to abate so that he could concentrate more easily.

"It's a slow day and the barman isn't bothered, so he agrees."

"What a guy," Jess deadpanned.

Franklin gave a wry smile. "Quite. Now while the owner of the dog rushes out to his car, another man presently walks in to the bar. He sees the dog tied to the stool and suddenly gets very excited. In a rush he goes to the barman and asks him if the dog is his. The barman replies that no, it belonged to a man who had just stepped out.

The stranger tells him what a pity that is. He's very excited. He says that he is an expert dog breeder and this dog is actually a very rare breed indeed – worth at least two thousand dollars if sold to the right buyers." Jess raised his eyebrows, politely to show he was listening.

"The dog breeder asks the barman when the owner will be back because he'll pay top dollar for this dog. Now the barman thinks carefully and then asks the man to come back in half an hour. The man agrees and leaves."

Jess shifted in his seat. His side was throbbing from the fall, his breaths short and painful. In an attempt to mask his grimace of pain, he took a sip of his water and focused with all of his might on his grandfather's story.

"A few minutes later, the owner returns, gratefully thanking the barman for watching his dog. Now the barman is left with a choice: tell the man what had happened or adapt it a little. He tells the owner that he knows a thing or two about rare dogs and that his dog is a rare breed, worth at least five hundred dollars and would he sell the dog to him. Well, the man's quite attached to this dog but finally, after haggling him to eight hundred dollars, the owner agrees and sells the dog. He finishes his beer and leaves."

Jess' eyes were beginning to water but his grandfather was eying him closely, obviously coming to the point of his strange little story.

"The barman," Franklin continued, "now sits back and waits for the dog breeder to return, looking forward to the 1200 return he's going to get on his investment. Only the expert dog-breeder never returns and the barman is left with a useless mutt and eight-hundred dollars out of pocket." He sat back and took another sip of his drink, looking at Jess appraisingly.

"So what do you think?"

Jess blinked. "About the story?" Franklin nodded. "I guess it was a con." Again, Franklin nodded.

"What do you think of the men in that story?"

Jess took a steadying breath. "The barman had it coming," he replied. "If he wasn't so greedy, he'd have been ok." He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. Franklin had a strange twinkle in his eye as he looked at the boy.

"An interesting opinion." Jess said nothing. "Do you know why I told you that story?" Jess shrugged. Franklin fixed him with a meaningful look, leaning back in his chair. "Because dogs and land – there's no difference between them." He paused. "I told you: you were going to want to know what I did."

And Jess suddenly halted the water glass at his lips, his eyes growing wide. "You're a… _con man_?"

* * *

Yes, the dog con is a very famous one - I just borrowed it :-) And my American friend has told me that Tylenol can be taken in tablets - I really hope that's right and I'm sorry if it's wrong.

Okay. I have split this chapter into two because it was FAR too long for one chapter. But Chapter 10 is up and it was written to be one chapter so if you're kind enough to read the next part, try not to leave too long between viewings :-) Thank you for getting to this point…


	10. Chapter 10

Fire and Ice – Chapter 10

Still disclaiming everything…

A/N – again, questionable language dotted throughout this one so be warned.

* * *

It suddenly wasn't just the pain in his chest that was making his breathing erratic. Confusion and incredulity washed over him. Franklin smiled tightly.

"Would you mind keeping your voice down?" he asked, in a low calm voice.

"You're a con man?" Jess repeated, dumbfounded, leaning forwards in his chair, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. Suddenly, little pieces about the puzzle of his grandfather started slowly falling in to place. Looking at the old man with new eyes, he was starting to see it.

Franklin smiled, widely. "I prefer the term _artist_."

Jess blinked then quickly recovered. "For how long?" he wondered, his meal all but forgotten.

Franklin thought about it. "A little over ten years now."

Another thought occurred to Jess. "And the travelling around?"

"Doesn't pay to stick around in any one place for too long. I've got a home, of course and a legitimate business. I make the odd above board deal – you've got to, once in a while."

"Like the dog story?" Jess clarified.

The old man nodded. "But there's a lot more you can do besides that." Jess thought about it for a few moments more.

"How does it work?" he wondered. "I mean, how do you sell land that doesn't belong to you?"

His grandfather scoffed. "You can't sell land that doesn't belong to you. Well, you _can_ but that's a much longer story that we won't go in to here. Suffice it to say that there are a lot of tricks to the trade, if you're smart enough to know when to use them." He refilled his glass from the bottle on the table. "You think it's immoral?"

Jess laughed. "That's kind of why it's illegal."

"True. But you said it yourself: the barman had it coming." He paused as he could see Jess mulling this over in his head. "It's their own greed that does it to them!" he insisted, passion and enthusiasm lacing his words. "Think about it – hoist by their own petard. It's one of the rare forms of justice in the world." Jess scoffed into his water.

"I don't really care about justice," he muttered. Looking over at his grandfather, Jess was surprised by his own lack of…moral outrage. Somehow, it just seemed to fit the old man and Jess just didn't feel like he could judge him. "So what are you telling me all this for?" he wondered.

"Because I have a proposition for you." At that, Jess' ears pricked up and something started stirring in his gut, setting off faint alarm bells.

"What?" he asked, carefully.

"I want you to come with me." Jess blinked in surprise.

"Where?"

"To Knox County for the most part – that's where home is but from there, who knows? California, Chicago, Texas? Maybe even Europe: London, Paris? Wherever the work takes us." And despite his illness, Jess couldn't help but laugh.

"You want me to travel over the world with you? To live with you?" he demanded, incredulously. His grandfather was smiling, but he wasn't laughing. "Seriously?" Jess repeated. The old man just nodded regarding him in that infuriatingly calm manner as if this were an every day opportunity that Jess was likely to come up with at any time.

Jess tried to take this in; his mind was swimming. "I'm not a con-artist," he insisted, finally. He could only imagine how shocked and appalled Rory would be. If she had her doubts about him now, what the hell would she think of him if he admitted he had joined his grandfather in a life of crime? But more to the point, Jess couldn't imagine the disappointment on his uncle's face if he were to let him down like that: everything Luke had been trying to install in him, abandoned.

"I mean," he explained, "you do what you do and I'm not judging that. It's not like people don't think my background's shady enough, you know? But I couldn't do what you do." His hands found his white linen napkin and he absently started to fiddle with it as he waited for his grandfather's response.

"Jess," he said, slowly. "I'm not asking you to start running cons. For one thing, they take a lot of training and though you're smart enough to learn, you certainly wouldn't be starting yet." Jess started to object but Franklin cut him off. "But that's still not what I'm asking you to do."

"So what _do_ you want from me"? Jess demanded.

Franklin gave a neutral shrug, his palms face up. "Just be yourself," he insisted. "Tag along." Off Jess' disbelieving expression, he explained. "A large part of what sells a con to a customer is _image_. The way you present yourself, the first impression you give off can be the difference between gaining and keeping a client's trust or turning them off for good. A family man is _always_ going to garner more trust."

Jess looked down at the table, suddenly feeling sick. "Uh huh. So this has nothing to do with wanting to get to know me, then?" he questioned, quietly feeling quite ridiculous. Franklin leant forwards sharply, took his wrist and gave it a firm shake.

"Hey! I never said that, did I? We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other better. I chose you because you're the kind of kid who I'd _want_ to get to know. But you should also have realised by now that I'm not a sentimental man. And I didn't take you for one, either."

"Yeah well you already have a family," Jess pointed out, still keeping his eyes trained on the napkin he was twisting round in his hands. "You don't need me."

Franklin let out a loud, sharp laugh. "Those idiots?" he exclaimed. "Jess, I just got through telling you it was all about image and first impressions! I wouldn't put Miranda and the lumbering twosome in front of a pig-farmer." He shook his head at the very thought. "No," he continued. "I need a grandkid who's going to make a good impression. And that, my boy, is you."

Jess shifted uncomfortably, took a deep breath and finally looked up to meet his grandfather's eyes. They were insistent, keen and he didn't see any hardness or malice behind them. Jess sighed. He guessed it was true: the old man had never claimed to be a sentimentalist and, he supposed it didn't seem like such an extraordinary thing really, to ask a family member to join you on the road, to help with the family business. It was just…a very odd family business.

"I still don't think I could do it," he insisted, quietly.

"But you already have."

Jess looked at him, sharply. Then something dawned on him. "Clarence Bigwell," he said in realisation, not sure yet whether he should feel insulted at having been unwittingly drawn in to aiding such an immoral scheme. In front of him, Franklin was nodding pleased to see his grandson catching on. "The dog con?"

He nodded again. "The land I'm selling him is worth squat: a piss-poor little boggy trench. A partner of mine has posed as a council official, letting him in on a little secret of the lucrative housing development that's going to be built on that site and the top dollar prices the developers will pay for the land there." He chuckled. "Don't feel too sorry for the man. As you pointed out, it's Clarence who thinks he's skimming _me_ out of a deal, buying the land off me for what he believes is a _fraction_ of what it's really worth. His greed is his downfall."

Jess said nothing but he had to admit, there was a kind of justice for the annoying little man. He still appeared uncertain though, and Franklin could see this. "Jess, this could be the perfect opportunity for you. A kid like you shouldn't be crammed in to a tiny little town like this! I'm offering you the world! Security!"

"With a travelling tutor?" Jess smirked. "I can't see me settling down to that."

His companion shrugged. "If you wanted one but I don't see why you'd need to finish school if you didn't want to. You could read your books, listen to music, maybe do a little writing if the literary bug won't leave you alone – travelling is perfect for a writer's soul – and the rest of your cares, you could leave to me. Just be by my side when I meet with the odd client, be around to discuss when I need to lace a story. As I said before: just be yourself."

He stopped, finally and waited. "So what do you think?"

Jess tried to take it all in. His mind was torn between the fight to block the feelings of illness and pain and trying to wrap his brain around the whirlwind of information he'd been given and the enormity of the offer that had been laid in his lap. It was a tempting offer, despite its moral shades of grey: no school, no obligations; excitement; travel; something to stimulate his mind. And yet, there were the gaping holes, too. They weren't so easy to define but they shaped themselves around familiar figures, around hopes of a possible relationship and around a newfound sense of loyalty.

Eventually, slowly, Jess shook his head. "It sounds great," he admitted. "Really. But I can't. Luke…" he trailed off for a moment. "I'm happy here, you know? I mean, it's sorta lame and it can bug the hell out of a normal person but…Luke's done a lot for me and I like it here, with him and…well, other people." He stopped and dared look up at his grandfather, expecting, fearing to see disappointment, maybe even anger.

Instead, his grandfather seemed contemplative, calm. He smiled at Jess, sadly. "Do you need more time to think about it?"

Resolutely, Jess shook his head. "I'm sorry and thanks, you know, for such a great offer."

"But that's your decision?"

The teenager nodded, relieved and strengthened by the acceptance in his grandfather's voice and bearing. The man sighed. "Well, I'll admit I'm disappointed. I wish you'd chosen differently. But, if you ever change your mind," he paused and withdrew a white envelope from inside his jacket pocket. Jess looked at it, curiously while his grandfather pulled out a ticket. "It's an open ticket," the old man explained. "It's in your name – all you need to do is set the date."

Jess' mouth hung open for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Franklin saved him the bother, though. "You don't have to take it yet," he assured him, "and you could just use it for a visit. After all, just because you wouldn't be living with me, doesn't mean you couldn't come visit me in Nebraska." Relief flooding through him, Jess nodded as Franklin slipped the envelope back into his pocket.

"But I would ask you to do one, small thing for me before you go home tonight?" Still feeling guilty for turning down the offer, Jess readily agreed. He'd have to get back home a little later than he'd like but it would be worth it if it made his grandfather feel better.

* * *

Of course, it might have been wiser to ask what the favour was first. If he had, Jess might not currently be sitting in the back of the same damn bar that had caused all the problems in the first place waiting to spy on a meeting between wallpaper paste man and his grandfather's partner in crime. Not wanting to be spotted by either man, Franklin wanted to ensure that his low-life partner wasn't double-crossing him when he handed over some fake documents to Clarence. So here Jess waited, miserably ill as he watched the tedious scene play out on the other side of the bar.

He thought the act of espionage would be thrilling. It wasn't. It was long, dull and made excruciating by a feverish disposition and an aching body. But, his grandfather could relax: the meeting came and went without incident. Finally, the two men filed out of the bar and Jess prepared to leave. Just as he stood, however determined to head home, his evening went from bad to worse.

Perhaps he'd displeased the gods lately but he certainly couldn't have predicted the spontaneous bar-room fight on the table next to him, glasses smashing, tables overturning and the burly guy who was propelled his way, forcing Jess to shove the man roughly out of the way. No, he couldn't have predicted that any more than he could have predicted the off-duty police officer who had just walked in to the bar at the end of his shift, immediately running to the middle of the fray and breaking it up.

Jess had tried to sneak away. Really. He'd tried to look inconspicuous but it was no use. The more he shied away, trying to disappear, the more obvious he looked to the suspicious officer. In less time than it took to tell, his evening shot to hell, Jess found himself handing over _his_ details, _Luke's_ details and in custody.

* * *

Luke had eventually closed up early that night. Once he'd come downstairs and realised he'd left his friend in the lurch, annoyed to see that Jess had skipped out early, Luke sent Caesar home and continued serving customers. But his mind wasn't on the job. He'd put in a few calls to a legal aid group, done a little research on the Internet but the one person he really needed to speak to, Luke couldn't bring himself to talk to yet. However, he quickly surmised that the service his customers were getting that evening was not doing any of them any favours. And so, promising a free cup of coffee the next day to everybody he was turfing out early, Luke shut up shop.

And now, phone in hand, perched tensely on the couch, Luke dialled the number he'd been putting off since the letter had arrived that morning.

"Hello?" Well, Liz was sober at least.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

She sighed. "Luke."

"Liz, what the hell _is_ this?"

"I take it you got the letter?"

Luke all but exploded. "Oh, you mean the very informative letter from the lawyers you can't afford to pay, telling me how you're taking my nephew away? _Yes_, I got that letter – thanks for the heads up!"

"Luke, don't yell," she pleaded. "I'm just doing what I think is right for Jess."

He leant forwards, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to organise the jumble of accusations, questions and pleas he wanted to throw at her. "What's right for Jess?" he questioned, incredulously. "You _did_ what was right for Jess – finally – when you sent him here. This? This isn't what's right for the kid!" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Liz," he continued in what he hoped was a more reasonable tone of voice, "he's doing much better here. He's doing great."

"Luke…"

"He's in school!" Luke pressed on, before she could continue. "He's met a fantastic girl here who will be a great influence on him. He helps out in the diner."

"Luke…"

"And he's not getting in as much trouble after school. Liz he's an amazing kid if he's given a chance to be."

"I know that!" she snapped. "Jesus, don't you think I know that? He's _my_ kid, damn it!"

"Then why are you taking him away from all this?" Luke roared. "Give me a chance with him, Liz!"

"Give you a chance?" she repeated, courage creeping in to her voice. "How well _is_ he doing with you, Luke?" his sister demanded. "I mean, he fell through thin ice, got carted off to hospital." Luke shook his head in disbelief at her audacity, given it was _her_ boyfriend who put him in hospital not three week's earlier. But he knew the reasons – he could recognise the desperation in her voice: the need to justify an action she didn't truly understand.

"And," she continued, "he's not going to school as much as you say. _I_ know. He's skipping out, just like he did in New York, so don't go pretending you've waved your magic wand and made everything perfect," she spat. "Just like the great, heroic Luke Danes always does!"

Luke clenched his fist by his side, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Don't try and turn this around on me," he demanded, tightly. "This isn't about me, or you and it certainly isn't about Jess."

"Oh no?"

"No! It's about Franklin Mariano." There was a telling hesitation on the other end of the line. "Are you trying to tell me he _hasn't_ been to see you?"

Again, a short pause then: "He came by the other day." Luke let out a bitter laugh.

"Yeah, I'll just bet he did."

"Luke," she started to protest, her voice losing it's angry confidence and wavering back into the uncertain little sister – the one who tried to wrap her big brother around her little finger with a pathetic mew to her voice and a fluttering of her eyelids.

"And let me guess," Luke continued, waving an emphatic hand in the air, "he thinks he's going to be the one to offer Jess a better home?"

"Luke," she sniffed. "I'm really grateful for everything you've done for Jess. I mean, shit, how many brothers will take in their sister's kid without any notice? You're great, you know? You're really great."

"But?" His voice was hard and cold. Let her sound as miserable as she liked, he wasn't wavering.

"But Frank? I mean…he could offer Jess this huge mansion. I mean, did you _see_ the pictures of that place? And he can give him all these opportunities in life that you and I just couldn't hope to and…"

Luke had heard enough. "Leave it out, Liz," he demanded, furiously, leaping to his feet. "Just cut the crap, okay? You and I both know that Jess could care less about a big mansion and whatever else Franklin Mariano could offer him! What Jess needs is dependable family. Family who love him and won't let him down."

"Frank can do that!"

Luke barked out a laugh. "Liz how deluded _are_ you? Franklin doesn't love Jess – he probably barely even _cares_ about him. There's something he wants from Jess and that's all there is to it and if you take him away from me, Jess is going to lose out on the first stable environment he's had in years!" Luke's voice grew quieter again, more entreating. "_Please_, Liz. Think about it. Think about what Jess really wants." Damn but it was so frustrating to be in such a helpless position about something that truly mattered to you!

She sniffled some more down the line but it gave Luke a glimmer of hope that she was still open to being talked round. Finally she said: "Frank said he would give Jess the _choice_…"

"Liz," Luke continued, sinking wearily back down onto the couch. "If you believe that, you'll believe anything."

"It's for the best, Luke," she insisted, quietly.

"Yeah? Best for who?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, sharply.

Luke leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. "You meet with lawyers? You go to all this trouble? This isn't about Jess' needs. What do _you_ get out of this?"

"I don't know what you mean." She was defensive now, angry and Luke got the distinct impression he'd just dug up the real reason behind the letter.

"Bullshit. You know exactly what I mean. What did you get?"

"Nothing."

"_Tell me_!"

"Nothing, damn you!"

Picking up the glass ornament on the coffee table, Luke suddenly hurled it across the room, in anger, listening to it smash against the far wall. "What did you _get_?" he thundered.

"_Jess_!" she screamed then her voice caught in a strangled sob. Luke stopped, the wind knocked out of his sails.

"What?"

"My son," she whimpered. "I got my son."

Luke screwed his face up in confusion. He was starting to feel very lost. "But?"

"You wouldn't let me see him," Liz wailed, guiltily. The little sister was back. "I asked you – no, I begged you to let him come visit and you wouldn't! You wouldn't even let me talk to him! What was I supposed to do? Frank's going let me visit. Frank's going to bring him round to stay whenever I want to see him." She descended into self-pitying sobs.

Luke sat back heavily against the couch. This was finally beginning to make sense. Liz didn't want Jess back to live: she knew she couldn't cope with him and she probably knew the legal storm Luke would kick up if she tried to get Jess back and living with _her_. But Franklin? That was a different story: he had the money to make things happen _and_, Luke suspected, legally or otherwise.

"Liz," he started, softly. "We…we can talk about this. You don't have to send Jess to live with a near stranger!"

She perked up, hopefully. "You'll let him visit?" she questioned. "Alone? You'll send him home?" Luke hesitated. He desperately wanted to lie, to tell his sister everything she wanted to hear, if that would end this, if that would get him Jess.

But he just couldn't bring himself to. The hesitation was enough to get Liz huffing again. "Liz," he began in an attempt to placate her. "Why don't we start with a phone call? He could call you, once a week, at least?"

Her voice was like iron. The anger was back, the hostility was back. "Would you send him home?" she repeated.

Luke closed his eyes. "Is Clyde still there? Will his _replacement_ be there?"

She drew in a harsh breath. "Clyde is my partner!" she snapped. "You can't expect me to be alone!"

Eyes still closed, her brother released a regretful sigh. "Then no. I'm not sending him home." His admission was quiet, reserved. He knew what giving it would mean.

"Then my decision stays," she declared. Liz paused. "Why are you fighting so hard for him anyway?" she suddenly demanded. "He's not yours! He's barely lived with you for five minutes, damn it! He's _not_ _yours_."

When Luke opened his eyes, he was surprised to find them wet with tears. For a moment his response caught in his throat. Finally, he said simply: "Because he deserves to have someone try."

It wouldn't have any impact on his sister, Luke could tell. When Liz was like this, she became as stubborn as a mule. Her voice was quiet and steely: "Then I guess my lawyers will be in touch." And with that, the line went dead.

For a moment, Luke just sat there, the phone still resting in his hands. He felt exhausted, drained, numb. He was a handyman. He was Luke Danes – he fixed things, he made them better, he offered sensible advice to people. But now? When things had never mattered to him more, Luke couldn't think of a single solution. At least none that were legal. And what about Jess? How sure _was_ he that his nephew _wouldn't_ choose to go? Franklin's lifestyle had to be tempting – to anyone, particularly a teenager. Luke let out a bitter laugh. Just what the hell did _he_, Luke Danes, the great diner owner who forced him to do his homework, be home by curfew and work in a diner for hours on end have to offer the kid?

The self-recriminations, the desperation and hopelessness, the acute feeling of battling alone all began to well up at once, threatening to burst. And Luke sat there, silently overwhelmed by a torrent of angry emotions. When the phone in his hands started ringing, Luke nearly threw it across the room in shock. But he didn't. Nor did he make to answer it. He let it ring and ring, staring blanking at the receiver. Whoever it was who wanted to speak to him could just…go to hell. Right then, Luke couldn't bring himself to care.

However, guilt and duty forcing his hand, Luke eventually lifted the phone and pushed the button to connect the call.

"Hello?" His voice was almost dead, strained.

"Luke Danes?" the man's voice on the other end asked.

"Yeah."

"The guardian of Jess Mariano?" Immediately, Luke gave the call his full attention.

"Is he okay?" he demanded, dread swirling through the torrent of negativity in the pit of his stomach.

"He's been arrested sir. I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the station."

* * *

Jess had never been so quiet in his entire life. Even his footsteps didn't make a sound. Eventually, he'd been let off with a caution and released without charge or bail. Released into his guardian's custody. Jess had no idea what kind of day his uncle had had but it obviously hadn't got any better by the time he'd arrived at the station. Jess cursed his stupidity! Of course it wouldn't be any better. Just like always, he was making his uncle's life a misery.

The ride home was wrought with tension. Jess didn't speak and so far, other than a terse enquiry at the station to see if he was all right, Luke hadn't either. Not one word and Jess was beginning to get freaked out. This wasn't Luke. This wasn't normal even if he _had_ screwed up big time, which, Jess admitted he had. But adding to his apprehension, Jess could no longer ignore the burning in his skin! It felt as though he was on fire. His chest and lungs ached with a fierce passion and it was all he could really manage to put one foot in front of the other and stumble in to the apartment.

But he did it any way and he did it without a word of protest or a smart remark. Luke was furious. Shaking – literally _shaking_- with anger. But for the most part, the older man just seemed…deadened, detached. Jess couldn't look at him; he was too ashamed. He hadn't felt this miserable for more reasons than he could account for, in years. He honestly felt like crying already and Luke hadn't even raised his voice yet.

Luke suddenly shot out a hand and gripped it round his upper arm, yanking him sideways and anchoring him in place. Jess looked at it, surprised but he didn't pull away. He simply didn't have the energy for one. His uncle's grip grew tighter and tighter still, closing in like a vice. Tears of pain sprung to Jess' eyes at the pressure but he bit his lip and said nothing.

Luke, for his part, barely even knew what he was doing. He honestly hadn't intended for the heavy swat to land on his nephew, sending the boy stumbling forwards a step, held up only by the hand around his arm. Nor for the smack that followed it, or the one after that, or that. Again and again Luke brought his hand back down, the blows increasing in force and speed: Every ounce of anger and fear and pain that he'd been bottling up just seemed to come pouring out, propelling him on. And Jess said nothing. He bit his lip so hard, he almost drew blood but he _said_ nothing.

And just like that, Luke stopped, breathing heavily, tears in his eyes. Beside him, his nephew was still and trembling. He released his arm and it fell limply back by the boy's side.

"Jess," Luke breathed, trying hard to regain control. Jess dimly turned towards him, arms wrapped protectively round his middle. His head was bowed and he was breathing quickly. "Sorry," Jess said, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. At that moment, Luke wanted nothing more than to envelope the boy in a hug, hold him tightly and promise him everything would be all right.

But he didn't. Instead, he ran a hesitant hand through his nephew's hair, cupping the side of his face gently for a moment. Then he stepped back and said, softly. "I think you should get some sleep. We can…we can talk more in the morning." He didn't wait for Jess to respond. He just turned and walked to the kitchen and when the teenager had moved to the bathroom and closed the door, Luke took down the bottle from the top shelf, broke the seal and poured himself a glass.

* * *

The kid had been in bed for fifteen minutes. By the time Jess had emerged from the bathroom, the glass had been washed and put away, the bottle safely stowed up on the shelf. Luke was currently finishing a breath mint. Liz drank whiskey and Jess couldn't stand it: he didn't want the boy to smell the same God-awful drink on him, too.

Luke now sat on the couch, his head in his hands. The evening's events ran through in his mind. He hadn't meant to! My God, he hadn't meant to! Guilt rippled through him. But damn it! He suddenly thought. It wasn't like the kid hadn't been asking for it. He got _arrested_ – in a bar! It wasn't like it was _unreasonable_ chastisement given the circumstances. And he'd warned him! Luke had lost count of the number of times he'd warned Jess of the consequences he'd face if he stepped too far out of line.

So why did he feel so crappy about it? Luke sighed, miserably. He knew why. He just didn't like admitting it. The older man glanced over to his nephew's huddled form. Would Jess understand? He'd never seen the boy so quiet in his life. Carefully, Luke pulled out the letter and stared at it. Keeping the truth from Jess was a waste of time – the kid was as involved in this whole mess as anyone was and the more he understood, the easier it would be to deal with. He would tell him everything, Luke decided, in the morning.

Suddenly, a shuffling noise off to his right caught his attention. Luke glanced over to see Jess out of bed, shakily making his way over to lean against the arm of the couch.

"Luke?" he asked, his voice sounding very young and strangely strangled.

Again, Luke felt a wave of guilt crest over him. "Jess," he began. "I'm glad you're up. Come and sit down here. I need to talk to you."

"Luke…"

"And I'm not going to yell," Luke cut in, assuredly. "I'm not mad at you. I just want to talk."

"Luke!" Finally, Luke stopped talking and looked at Jess. Immediately, his eyes grew wide with alarm. He shot to his feet.

"I don't…" Jess breathed, faintly. "I don't…feel well." It was clear that the effort to talk was almost too much for him. In an instant, Luke was by his side, gently guiding him down onto the couch. Even through his t-shirt, Luke could feel the heat radiating off his nephew. The boy was soaked with perspiration.

"Jess?" Luke questioned, sharply. "It's okay, son. Tell me what's wrong." His heart was thumping against his ribcage. He'd never seen the boy look so scared. All at once, in front of his eyes, Jess seemed to fall to pieces, whatever glue had been keeping him together up to that point, fading away. He was trembling, almost delusional with fever. A round of hacking coughs wracked his chest and Jess screwed his eyes shut, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"It…hurts," he moaned, softly, barely audible. Luke had to lean in closer to hear him, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"Where?" he pressed, in a calm voice.

Jess gasped and Luke then noticed his breathing: it was rapid – _too_ rapid – his breaths short and strained as if he couldn't take in enough oxygen. The teenager's eyes were wide with fear. "Chest," he managed.

"Okay," Luke said, smiling reassuringly at him. "I'm going to call an ambulance." He leaned forwards and kissed him gently on the forehead, his lips almost burning at the contact. He'd get the boy some ice as soon as he'd phoned for help. Quickly, Luke rose to his feet and hovered nearby, phone held in his hands, willing his fingers not to shake or slip as he dialled the three simple digits.

The conversation with the operator seemed to go past in a blur. All Luke really recalled from it as he hung up was that an ambulance was on its way to him now.

* * *

Watching someone you loved being trundled through a hospital corridor on a gurney, oxygen mask over their face and a paraphernalia of hospital staff buzzing around them was one of the most soul-numbing torments Luke could think of. He ran alongside his nephew, trying to keep but more often getting in the way and having to be pushed back.

_Had he fallen? Had he eaten anything suspicious? How long had he had the fever? Had he been sick?_ Luke did his best to answer the questions the nurses were firing at him but his mind was tripping over itself, drawing blanks to questions whose answers should have been rolling off his tongue. He watched the doctor tap his chest, listen to his heart, monitor his breathing. They drew his blood, inserted an I.V. into his arm, the oxygen mask still covering his nose and mouth. Occasionally, Jess moaned in pain and confusion, moving his head from side to side. It made Luke's chest ache to hear it but at least it showed his nephew was still awake.

"Sir?" It was one of the nurses: a no-nonsense woman who looked like she could play for the _Chicago Bears_ if she wanted to. Luke stopped and vaguely looked down at the firm hand she had planted on his chest, barring him from following his nephew any further. "We're going to take good care of him now but you're going to have to wait out here."

"But..."

"Stay by the waiting area and someone will be out to talk to you, shortly." And with that, she was gone, following Jess into the exam room. The doors swung shut behind her and just like that, Jess was gone. As Luke stood, watching the space where his nephew had left he felt a crushing sense of loneliness and futility overcome him.

Just when had this whole damn day gone to hell? What had he done to deserve this? What had _any_ of them done to deserve this? He thought of his nephew: delirious, needles poking out of him, oxygen being fed into him, writhing in pain from who knew what. And when he pulled through this? What next? He was still going to lose the kid, only to a creep like Franklin. He'd never felt so God damned helpless. He'd never wanted to scream so much or hit something so much as he did right then. It was as if he couldn't _get_ any lower.

"Mr. Danes?"

Expecting a nurse, Luke spun around, hopefully. He stopped short. The two, suited gentleman in front of him were _not_ nurses. Or doctors. Their tones were polite but strangely detached. Warily, eyes still trained on the doors through which Jess had disappeared moments earlier, Luke nodded.

"Mr. Danes, my name is Daryl Havers. This is William Fearson." The taller of the men indicated his partner with one hand. Luke made no reply. Whoever they were they were in his way and distracting him from Jess. Then Daryl Havers placed a hand on his elbow and kept it there. Luke looked down at it, his expression turning in to a frown. "Mr. Danes, we'd like you to come this way for a moment to talk with us. We're from Social Services."

Luke was struck dumb. "Social Services?" he repeated. "Who the hell called you guys?"

"Please, Mr. Danes." There was no politeness left in the tone.

Luke cast a helpless glance at the door. "I'm not leaving Jess."

But given the expressions of granite on his two companions' faces and the way in which they moved to stand either side of him, Luke realised, with a sinking heart that he was.

* * *

Okay – that's it for now. Please let me know what you thought – I love to hear your comments! Thank you :-)


	11. Chapter 11

Fire and Ice – Chapter 11

Standard disclaimer applies – don't own them and I'm way too tired to think of a witty response!

A/N – Wow! This has been a very long time since I've written one of these. A thousand apologies for taking so long and a million thank yous to all of you who didn't give up hope and who have encouraged me with your lovely reviews and gentle nagging :-) I've recently moved house at the same time as work starting back up and everything colliding in my life at exactly the same time. Add to that an unhealthy dose of a lack of inspiration and that makes for very bad writing time :-( But I'm hoping for a turn-around now.

So, I really hope you like the next chapter.

* * *

The office blinds were half closed, allowing a filtered light from the hospital corridor to seep across the well-ordered wooden desk. Whichever hospital administrator the room belonged to, kept his affairs under strict control. The overhead light appeared harshly illuminating and Luke occasionally had to blink against the white light. Maybe it was fatigue more than anything else? Hell: who was he kidding? Of course it was – fatigue and stress. He had no idea how Jess was faring, nor, he got the distinct impression, was he allowed to find out. Luke sat across from the men in suits, every fibre in his being, alert yet overcome by an increasing weight of weariness. The room was suffocating, his interrogators obviously commanding their space, playing the game by their rules.

"So, Mr. Danes, I hear Jess was admitted to the hospital earlier this month?" The question seemed innocent enough, as Daryl Havers leant forwards in his chair, a clipboard of notes and files resting on the desk in front of him, just out of Luke's view.

Luke's jaw tightened but he refused to allow the anger rising in him to surface. "I'm sure that's what it says on the sheet of paper right in front of you," he responded, tightly.

Havers cleared his throat while he exchanged a quick look with his silent partner. "Hypothermia was the primary factor," he clarified giving up on the pretence for a moment. Wordlessly, Luke nodded still waiting cautiously to see where this was going. Like he couldn't guess and like he couldn't tell who was behind all of this, orchestrating it and pulling all the strings. It caused the blood inside of him to boil anew. He briefly wondered how someone's blood could both boil and freeze simultaneously yet somehow, he was managing it.

"How did it happen?"

Luke shrugged, eyes never leaving Havers' sharp, inquisitive ones. "He fell through thin ice." He paused, noting the silent William Fearson's fingers scribbling away with a ballpoint pen with every answer he gave and even in his moments of silence. "It's not like I pushed him or anything!" he exclaimed. "It was an accident for crying out loud."

"Of course," Havers agreed. His crystal blue eyes scanned the medical notes in front of him, absorbing the scribblings with a kind of disengaged interest. For the waiting Luke, the moment seemed to expand forever. He licked a finger and casually turned the page. His hair was gelled, Luke noted. Too gelled – it looked shiny and wet like a fine film of grease was covering it. Jess' hair was rarely seen without products but somehow he always made it look good – wild and uncouth at times, but good. For the thirtieth time since they had sat around that desk, Luke's thoughts tugged back towards his nephew. They'd tell him, right? They'd come and tell him if the boy took a turn for the worse?

"I take it you were given medical instructions for his after-care? To prevent any developing illness?" Havers' eyes remained on the page a moment or two longer before he returned his gaze to rest on Luke. The diner owner's jaw began to grind.

"Of course."

Havers gave a neutral shrug. "So what happened?"

"What do you mean _what happened_?" Luke shot back, incredulously. "He lives his own life - he's not a little kid, that's what happened!"

Havers exchanged another slight look with Fearson. "So you're saying Jess would have been entitled to better protection if he were younger?" Luke had to bite his tongue to hold back his immediate response. Instead he threw his hands up in the air.

"That's not what I said and you sure as hell know that's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean, Mr. Danes? I'd appreciate it if you could clarify. For the record, you understand."

"Why don't we talk about something else?" Luke interrupted suddenly, leaning forwards in his chair. Havers and Fearson raised a united eyebrow, Fearson's fingers scattering over the page like a swarm of insects. "Why don't we admit why we're really here?" Luke pressed, his finger pointing and gesticulating. "I may be new to the world of parenting but I have _never_ heard of Social Services being called in when a seventeen year-old kid suffers a freak accident!"

"Like the one he had December twenty-fourth?"

Luke hesitated for just a fraction, his eyes narrowing. "Those are two completely unrelated issues and you and the Men in Black know that very well." The hand kept writing. "Don't try to confuse the issue," he continued. "Why are you here?"

Havers seemed to consider his options for a moment. "This is a routine response to a reported concern into Jess' welfare."

"Uh huh. Whose concern?"

Havers' expression remained infuriatingly calm. "I'm afraid that's confidential."

"I have a right to know who's accusing me…"

"No one's being accused of anything yet, Mr. Danes. We're just making enquiries into…"

"Ah, save it!" Luke snapped, waving them off with one hand. "This has Franklin Mariano written all over it." The hesitating look shared between the two partners was all the confirmation Luke could have asked for. God damn that man! He should have seen something like this coming. He almost slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair. But he didn't, he held himself back. Getting angry and defensive now was not the way to play this game. Not if he wanted come away from this interview not looking like a maniac.

He took a deep breath, forcing it out slowly between his teeth. His checked shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably despite the chill in the air outside. It was only then that he registered just how high the office's central heating system had been cranked. Luke tugged at the base of his navy blue cap.

He rested his head in the palms of his hands. "Can I see my nephew now?" Luke asked wearily, voice slightly muffled by his arms. Havers offered him a fractional smile which came and went unseen.

"We just have a few more questions, Mr. Danes."

Luke looked up. "I want to see my nephew, _now_."

"_Not yet_, Mr. Danes." The room got a little more frosty. They were asserting themselves now, Luke noted, pushing back. Luke spread his palms in bewildered disbelief.

"What is it you guys think I'm going to do to him in the middle of the ICU?" A knock at the door sounded. Without a word, Fearson rose to answer it. "No, seriously," Luke continued directing his comments to Daryl Havers. "There isn't another frozen lake for me to push him into even if I wanted to and I'm not going to interfere with anything down there!" At the door, a thin manila file was placed into Fearson's hands. He thanked the courier quietly then returned to his seat, handing the file over to Havers after taking a moment to inspect the contents himself.

Luke's suspicions grew. "Mr. Danes," Havers began, "I appreciate this must be a frustrating time for you but I have to ask you to be patient while we assess the situation." Then there was a pause as the man's eyes roamed the new information he had been given. All Luke could do, not knowing the contents of the file, was sit there waiting.

As it turned out, he didn't have long to wait. Something about both Havers and Fearson had changed in just the space of a few moments – a slight shift in body posture, a more precise manner in which they held themselves, poised their pens, held expressions. Luke could feel his muscles start to tingle.

"Jess was arrested today, is that right?"

Uncertainly, Luke nodded – there was no sense in trying to deny it and the arrest alone was _not_, he kept reminding himself, cause enough to have the kid taken away. "Why was he arrested?"

"He was in a bar. He wasn't drinking. It was…bad timing." Havers raised an eyebrow.

"You think there's a good time?" Luke shook his head, quickly, inwardly berating his stupid responses.

"No, that's not what I meant." From beside Havers, William Fearson pointed to a particular note in Jess' file. Havers took it in.

"Was this the first time he'd been there?"

Again, Luke considered lying. Jess hadn't been arrested that time - there was no record. But a chat with the barman would no doubt clear things up. Besides, lying would indicate he had something to hide. And he didn't; Luke was certain he didn't. He shrugged. "Once before. But it was just stupid - kid's stuff, you know? Teenagers try it now and then."

"I'm curious, Mr. Danes. How did you react? When Jess was arrested, knowing he'd done it before?" Havers and Fearson held him in their steely gazes from across the table, sucking the oxygen out of the room. Luke's pulse quickened and he looked away. How he'd reacted was still sitting uneasily in the pit of his stomach no matter how hard he tried to justify it to himself.

"How would _you_ react?" Luke shot back, uncomfortably.

Without missing a beat, Havers answered: "If it were _my_ kid? I'd be mad. Pissed off."

Luke knew when he was being led; he _knew_ it. But what else could he do? Without knowing the game plan, he needed to find out where he was heading and the only way to do that was to reluctantly follow. Hesitantly, he nodded. "I guess."

"And how do you communicate that anger? How do you show him you're mad?"

Luke stiffened. "What do you mean?" Havers sighed and leant back in his chair.

"Mr. Danes, are you aware that Jess has suffered recent, extensive bruising to his back, sides, chest and left upper arm? His doctors estimate they were inflicted within the last six hours. Would you have any idea about those?" Luke's mouth opened in surprise. Jess was hurt? When? How did this happen? His mouth hung open a moment longer. Finally he answered:

"He…I know he was in a fight, at the bar. I mean, I didn't think it was serious. The police mentioned something about a scuffle." He looked helplessly at the two men. "I didn't know he was hurt." The words sounded lame and inexcusable, even to him. Damn it! _Why_ hadn't he known? He didn't check – didn't even _think_ to ask the kid how he was, even when he'd known there had been a fight.

But at the time, still reeling from his phone call with Liz and the events of the last few days, Luke had been too consumed with anger to step back and really _look_ at his nephew. He swore softly under his breath. If he had only calmed down and stayed objective, he would have _seen_ how sick Jess was becoming, he would have thought to ask him how he was. They _both_ could have avoided this emergency visit. But things hadn't worked out that way.

"So you think this was done in the…what did you call it? Scuffle?"

Luke's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're implying. And no. Categorically: _no_. I had nothing to do with this. I _have_ never hurt my nephew, I _would_ never hurt my nephew."

"No matter how angry you were?" Havers interjected.

"Look, Jess could try the patience of a saint but he's my nephew, he's family, I love him and I could never hurt him. You people need to get that through your thick skulls!"

Havers nodded, thoughtfully. "Is that what you told his doctors at Christmas, too?" The question was mildly put, the seasoned care-worker used to carefully concealing any accusations in his tone. But that the question existed at all was enough for Luke. It hung there, heavy in the air between them.

Luke took a measured breath. "I'm going to see my nephew." The two men opened their mouths, Luke presumed to protest but before they could utter a word, he swooped in. "If you're going to have me arrested then you'd have done it by now but I'm guessing you're not. As far as I can see you have no paper work to keep me from my nephew, no evidence to keep me from him and as my limited legal knowledge tells me, no leg to stand on."

His companions' faces had turned decidedly sour. "So," Luke continued, "if I need to get a lawyer then you'd better tell me now because until you have something more than your overactive imaginations to back you up, I'm going to see my nephew and _this_ interview is _over_."

And with that, Luke pushed back his chair, sharply, sending it flying backwards several paces. As he suspected, Havers and Fearson didn't move. His fingers on the door handle, Havers called out after him, still seated with his partner at the desk: "You'll be hearing from us, Mr. Danes." Luke didn't look back as the door closed behind him.

* * *

As Luke walked the long distance back to where he had last left Jess, his mind began to turn over and over with the news he had just been presented with. The bitter facts began to mingle with already present worries and fears. He came to the end of the corridor and pushed the button for the elevator, rocking backwards from heel to toe as he waited for the illuminating numbers to swing back down to his floor. The staircase doorway stood to the side of the elevator and he resisted the urge to burst through the double doors and take the steps two at a time until he reached the ICU.

Jess had been hurt? He'd sworn to himself, after Christmas, after Clyde he would never let it happen again. But not only had Jess been getting sicker and sicker over the last few days, but he'd also been knocked around again. The light eventually came to rest on his floor but it was still an age for the doors to open. Eventually, Luke stepped through, relieved to see there was only one other occupant of the space, an elderly woman pushing a portable oxygen tank and all but oblivious to his presence. That was good – the last thing he could handle right then was any more scrutinising.

He replayed the doctor's abridged report in his head: bruising on his back, ribs and sides? He knew nothing about it – it had to have happened in the bar. Jess must have been knocked down. Thank God nothing was broken. It was unpleasant, Luke reasoned, but not the worst thing that might have happened to the kid. The two of them had survived more.

Then he stopped. That hadn't been the only thing: they'd mentioned bruising around his arm, too. The elevator stopped and the lady stepped out. He could see the ICU sign ahead, just the other side of the door but it took the ding of the closing doors to jar him into action. Luke quickly shot a hand out, shoving hard against the closing doors until they reluctantly wheezed open again.

Numbly, he stumbled through and into the waiting area. Had that been him? His brain struggled to recall earlier that evening. He knew he'd gripped the kid's arm tightly but not tight enough to hurt him.

"Mr. Danes?" He spun around at the sound of his name. The nurse who had told him to wait when he'd first brought Jess in, was standing in front of him again. Her expression was serious but not what he would call grave. It gave him hope for Jess' prognosis.

"How is he?" Luke fired, quickly forgetting his guilt trip in favour of an update. The nurse held up a placating hand, her tone soothing.

"Jess is stable, more or less. Doctor Evans is with him now. Why don't you go through and see Jess and Doctor Evans will explain everything to you?" That was the first good piece of news that Luke had heard that evening and the relief he felt almost made him want to sweep the nurse off her feet in a crushing hug. But he didn't. Luke Danes barely hugged his own friends and family much less perfect strangers, even ones who delivered him comforting news.

She led him up to Jess' room then left him to go in alone. By the bedside stood Doctor Evans: tall, broad with thinning blonde hair. But Luke's eyes went straight to his nephew. A drip had been inserted into one of his thin arms and oxygen was being fed into him via nasal tubes. A selection of clips and wires attached to his fingers and chest monitored his laboured breathing and oxygen levels. He seemed impossibly thin and frail, his pale skin mottled with ugly bruising around his arm where the hospital gown's sleeves rode up. It caused bile to rise in Luke's throat.

"Mr. Danes?" Evan's voice was quiet, unassuming yet Luke still drew reassurance from its lack of panic. He nodded, wordlessly. "Jess has been suffering from a severe case of pneumonia and complications surrounding it. Most cases can be treated at home – it's unusual for the patient to need hospitalisation, particularly in someone as young and strong as Jess but it _can_ happen." Luke shook his head, his hand raking gently through the boy's sweat-drenched hair.

"I should have seen this coming," he muttered, softly. "I warned him about this, I just…I didn't see it happening when it was actually right in front of me."

Evans chose to make no comment. Instead he finished checking the IV bag by his bed and moved to tick something off on Jess' chart. "When pneumonia is contracted as the result of a virus, conventional antibiotics do little to help, I'm afraid but I've started Jess on a round, just in case. The oxygen is helping his breathing and the meds should help ease the pain in his chest."

"But he'll be okay?" Luke pressed. He rested carefully on the edge of Jess' bed, mindful of dislodging wires and tubes, the young man unaware of his proximity or touch.

Evans smiled. The expression almost appeared foreign and out of place on the medical staff Luke was prone to meeting in that hospital. "I'd like to keep him in for a few days – anything up to a week - monitor his condition, make sure his breathing improves on its own. Jess is a strong young man so I have no doubts, given rest and medication that he'll fight this over time." Then he seemed to hesitate for a moment as if weighing up a decision. Luke watched him out of the corner of his eye, torn between monitoring Jess and the doctor's responses. However, whatever he was going to say, Evans apparently thought better of it because he merely stepped towards Luke and offered his hand for the man to shake.

Relieved, Luke took it, firmly. "Thank you, doctor."

"I'll leave you two alone for a little while. I can't give you long, though. Jess needs his rest." Luke nodded and glanced back at the still form on the bed.

"Has he woken at all?" Evans consulted the chart then looked back at Luke.

"He's had brief moments of awareness but his body is craving sleep. I'd expect him to be out for the count, if I were you."

After thanking Evans again, Luke distractedly watched him leave then resumed his tentative seat on his nephew's bed. Without the conversation provided by the doctor the silence surrounding the boy was almost too much to take. Carefully, the older man took one of the teenager's hands in his own and began to absently run a calloused thumb across its surface.

"I know you're awake, Jess," he stated, quietly. If Jess heard him, he gave no outward sign. Luke wasn't sure what he had been expecting, or even hoping for. "I've known you long enough to know the signs," he continued, a fond smile playing on his face. "But it's okay," he assured him, quickly. "You don't have to talk. I just…I just need you to listen to me, okay Jess?" He waited but Jess remained still, lying prone beside him, apparently dead to the world. Had he felt the boy's muscles twitch in the hand he held? Luke couldn't be certain.

He took a deep breath, surprised and perhaps a little dismayed to feel it rattle and shake. Had Jess heard it too? "I'm sorry, Jess. I'm sorry about everything. About tonight – or last night, whatever it is now. God, what's the time? It's so hard to keep track in this place. They could do with some windows, you know? Some natural lighting." He watched the slight rise and fall of the boy's chest and his grip on his nephew's hand gently tightened.

He felt his eyes suddenly sting with tears and bit his lip to keep it still. "Tonight," he continued. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have lost it with you and I'm really, really sorry. I should have asked if you were hurt in the bar. I should have seen that you were sick, really sick and I will _always_ kick myself that I didn't. There's just been…a lot of stuff going on recently. That's not an excuse…I just want you to understand."

Again, breath held in his throat, Luke waited watching Jess' face for any sign of communication. That Jess was awake, Luke was certain. That the teenager was ready to talk to him, he wasn't so sure of. But he would, eventually, Luke knew. Jess just needed a little more time to calm down, to process things. And after all, he reasoned, the kid _was_ sick and exhausted. He'd let him rest, give Jess the time and space he needed.

Leaning down, Luke placed a kiss on the kid's forehead. If the boy was going to play dead, that was just the price he was going to have to pay to keep up the pretence, he decided with a half-hearted chuckle. He stayed that way for a moment, head leaned in close to the kid's. "Sleep well, Jess," he whispered. "I'll be here when you're ready to talk to me."

* * *

Luke left Jess as he had found him – sleeping, or at least pretending to be. He was exhausted himself. For the first time that night, he wanted to call Lorelai, to hear her voice. Jess could use some new company. Perhaps he could persuade her to bring Rory down? That would certainly cheer the kid up and Luke liked to believe that Rory would be concerned enough for his nephew to _want_ to come see him.

He knew where the payphone was by now. He knew where every vending machine was, every water fountain. This hospital was becoming like a second damn home! And as he stumbled off, bleary-eyed and heavy-hearted to make that call, he never noticed that the crumpled letter from New York had, somewhere, fallen from his pocket. Nor did the night nurse who came to check on Jess notice the crumpled, folded letter he had tucked beneath his blankets.

* * *

Okay. Done for now. I'm sorry if this chapter doesn't exactly 'flow' from the previous one but I had to get something written down or the story was just going to linger in my head forever. I'm trying really hard to get my inspiration back for another chapter but any encouragement you could give would very much be appreciated :-)


	12. Chapter 12

Fire and Ice – Chapter 12

Standard disclaimer applies – Christmas IS coming but I'm not holding my breath that Jess will be delivered, gift-wrapped on my doorstep. So, nope, still don't own them.

This chapter is short, I'm afraid but I have come to the realisation that if I don't post in short, slightly more frequent bursts, then I will likely never post at all. Thank you SO much for all of your really kind reviews and nagging! It's lovely to know there are still people out there who are following it. I only hope I don't let you down! Please bear with me as the story has veered a little off course and I'm now not so sure where I'm heading with it. But Christmas holidays are coming up soon so I hope to be able to squeeze some more out before the New Year.

Anyway, I hope you guys can get some enjoyment out of the latest bit and have a great Christmas!

* * *

The next time Jess opened his eyes, sunlight was struggling to seep through the high, tiny slits that passed for windows, set above his bed. They illuminated a thin shaft of dust. It fell, sprinkling through the air in an endless, almost hypnotic stream. He peered through his slatted lids for a moment longer before the gentle, steady beating of the machines by his bed, lulled him back to sleep.

Inside his head, the world was becoming an ugly place: familiar. Walls towered, voices mumbled and taunted, dark patches encroached into safe places. Fingers reached out to him through gaps in the dark, attached to elongated cold hands. They grasped at this jacket, tugging at him. Jess didn't like it there but, futilely he realised there was nowhere else for him to go. The more he moved away, the faster it followed. So in his dream, he simply slid further back in to the shadows and played the game again.

When he woke again, he could hear bustling in the room around him. Someone was adjusting his IV then wheeling a small cart to the other side of the room. Jess had no desire to speak to anyone at that moment so he kept his eyes shut, resisting the urge to screw them closed tighter. Footsteps shuffled around him a moment longer, soft nurses' shoes moving with quiet efficiency. Jess held his breath, unconsciously. He wasn't ready for the world yet. The world could go to hell. He shifted his hip, just minutely and the muffled crackling of the paper, secured beneath his blankets reminded him that _his_ world was already there.

He listened hard for the telltale sounds of his uncle. Luke was…distinctive. You couldn't miss it if the man was in the same room as you, not when you knew him as well as Jess did and certainly not when the man was camped out at your bedside for the half the night. His breathing, the little noises he made in the back of his throat whenever he cleared it, even the rustling of his flannel shirts and the sound of weariness sighing through cracked lips: if it all went in to forming this giant, numeric equation the final answer would always be Luke.

But he couldn't hear them now. Inwardly, his fingers urged to brush the letter again, to read it through once more. As if reading it more than once made it any more believable.

Finally, the absent bustling of his room's occupants faded into the distance. Jess counted to five in his head just in case anyone still lingered outside his door and then he slowly opened his eyes. At first the daylight and hospital surroundings were disquieting: vague memories of burning fevers, of needles and wires and tubes came trickling in. Jess blinked against them. Memories certainly couldn't hurt him – not when he was asleep and certainly not when he was awake.

He was still drowsy but could recognise the effects of his medication instantly. His chest ached, his ribs and sides throbbed almost unbearably and Jess could tell from the raw, scratchy burning in his throat that at some point in the night, they must have inserted a breathing tube. Thankfully, they hadn't left it in for long. Waking up to find things inserted in him was never a comforting sensation. He barely tolerated the drip.

His fingers slid to the cool paper of the letter. They tugged it carefully from under his leg and Jess cast his gaze downwards to where it now lay on the mattress. His hand turned the envelope to stand lengthways on its edge, tapping it lightly on the surface of the bed. It felt so light, so tiny and insignificant. How was it that something so small and fragile could contain something so weighty and powerful? He guessed what they said was true – about the pen being mightier than the sword. But then, if anyone should have accepted that truth without question, it should have been him, he supposed.

It was only then that Jess noticed something strange – something amiss that had passed him by before: he _wasn't_ alone. Someone was sitting nearby, watching, waiting patiently. And all at once, Jess could smell her gentle perfume as if all other scents had been suddenly sucked out of the room all at once. He had smiled before he'd even thought about it, before his eyes had ever risen to meet her sparkling blue ones. But there she was, Rory Gilmore, sitting there in a comfortable looking chair, propped up against some cushions and regarding him with a mixture of amusement and affection. Jess looked again, a little harder, just to be sure: yup – there was definitely affection in that expression.

"Gilmore." His voice cracked a little and Jess coughed against the dryness in his throat. She smiled at his gently teasing, nonchalant tone. "We've got to stop meeting this way – people are going to talk."

"People already talk," she informed him, rising to move to his bedside. "You've been nothing _but_ the talk of the town since you came in here." She didn't say 'again' but it was clearly understood between them. He grimaced slightly and looked away, toying with the threads of the yellow, hospital blankets. He hated yellow – like thick custard.

"And what does _Dean_ say?" Jess' tone was light and teasing - at least, that was how Rory decided to take it. She pushed a strand of her long hair behind one ear but though her chin was jutted up, defiantly, she couldn't bring her eyes to meet his.

"He hopes you feel better soon."

Jess let out a bark of a laugh. It made his chest hurt again but he couldn't help it.

"He _does_!" Rory insisted. "He's a good guy, you know if you'd just give him half a chance. He wouldn't want _anybody_ to be hurt."

"Even the down-right immoral and scandalous like me, right?" Jess scoffed. She folded her arms and glared at him. Uh oh. Time to back off the boyfriend.

"If you don't want me to be here, I can just go," she started. But Jess shot in quickly.

"No," he assured her. "I'd…I'd kind of like you to stay, if you want to?" He gave a one-shouldered shrug as he glanced about himself, embarrassment creeping into his features. He leant in closer to her. Instinctively, almost without thinking, she mirrored his movement until they were almost nose to nose, his breathing hot on her face. "I kind of hate these places," he explained, quietly. "I don't know where anyone else is and…besides, it's nice seeing you. And not just in the diner, for coffee but…you know – _seeing_ you."

And Rory waited, waited for the punch-line, for the flippant remark that would dispel the lingering sense of flirtation, hovering in the inches of air between them. But it never came. All she saw was a moment of raw vulnerability fleet across his face, waiting to be rebuffed. It was then that Rory realised she couldn't feel the gentle heat on her face any more: he was holding his breath. Did he even notice?

Very carefully, she moved her fingers to lightly grasp his own, lowering herself to perch on the edge of his bed. She ran a feather-light touch across his knuckles and smiled, warmly at him. "Well then you're forgiven and I'll stay."

Not giving him a chance to respond, she suddenly sprang off the bed and darted over to her chair where a carrier bag rested on the floor. She snagged it up and brought it back over, handing it to him with an exaggerated flourish as she re-seated herself on the mattress. "I almost forgot about this!" she exclaimed. Jess eyed it suspiciously. Like walking into the unknown, it seemed prudent to approach Gilmore packages with a touch of caution.

"This," she readily supplied for him, "is your cunningly created '_Third Time's the Charm' Hospital package'_. I call it your T.T.C. box, for short."

"Well, technically that would be T.T._T_.C." Jess pointed out, attempting to shift a little higher on his bed so that he could sit up.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Don't rain on my parade. T.T.C. sounded more succinct. More…_official_."

He nodded. "Can't argue with that."

"So," she continued, a gleam in her eyes, "I thought long and hard when Luke called my mom and me last night and I have put together this ultimate survival kit for your stay here." Finally, Jess gave his infamous smile and smirk and eagerly peered into the bag.

"I know," she cut in, quickly. "_Howl_'s an obvious one but you can never re-read a classic too many times. Plus I'm banking on you not being in here that long. _War and Peace_ would have given off the wrong message." He removed the book and turned it over, gently in his hands. It was thin, a quarter of the size of the books he usually read but Jess knew the comforting words within it would help to dispel the voices in his head and the uneasiness inside.

"Then there's a pen and notepad," she carried on. "Just in case, you know..." she waved a thought-inducing hand in the air, "the urge to write something came over you." He raised a querulous eyebrow.

"Like what?"

She shrugged but seemed undeterred. "Anything," she helpfully supplied. "Your thoughts and things." He almost choked at the suggestion, eyes bulging.

"You mean like a diary!"

Exasperated, Rory rolled her eyes. "Oh no," she drawled. "Heaven forbid a man of mystery and aloofness should ever commit his secret thoughts to paper." She scooped the pad out of the bag and gently swatted him on the arm with it. "You can doodle in it for all I care," she informed him. "But I figured if you were anything like me then it would just help to pass the time."

Finally, Jess relented, chuckling. "Okay! I'll give it a try! Anything for a quiet life."

Suddenly, her face became lined, seriousness washing over her features. It made Jess both cringe and flood with warmth to see the concern in her eyes, however awkward this seemed to make her.

Rory shifted a little closer to him and laid a light hand his arm. "Are you okay?" she asked, quietly. "We were all pretty worried about you. Well," she clarified. "I mean my mom and Luke and, well… me." Trying hard not to fill with hope at the admission, Jess simply shrugged.

"Takes more than pneumonia to get rid of me."

"Still. I'm glad you're okay. Are you in pain now?" Jess shook his head, now anxious to have the topic dropped again.

"So where is Luke?"

Rory glanced to the door and then down at her watch. "My mom took him out to breakfast and to go get a change of clothes," she explained. Jess said nothing, merely nodding his head to show he had heard her. Unsure what his silence meant, Rory pressed on, eager to fill the void. "I think he's going to pack a bag for you, too. I mean, they said you were going to be in here for about a week, right?"

Jess sighed, irritably. "Don't know – I've been out for the count. But knowing my luck, that sounds about right." Rory laughed at the scowl across his face.

"Give yourself a break, Jess," she admonished, lightly. "Your body's been through a heck of a lot in the last few weeks. You need the rest."

"So," Jess announced, suddenly changing the topic. "How long are you sticking around for?" A thought struck him. "Isn't this a school day?" In all honesty, his memory of the passage of time was a little foggy. She blushed ever so slightly.

"I figured it was worth a day." His eyebrows raised.

"I am?"

And Rory didn't answer him. She simply took up his notepad and pen, opened it and started to write.

"What are you…?" Jess started to ask but she cut him off sharply as she flipped the page round to face him.

"Pick a letter," she instructed, indicating the rows of tiny blank lines. "And I'll give you a clue: it's a book."

Jess' lip curled up in amusement. He settled back against the pillows. "Well I'm glad we narrowed it down," he muttered. Rory merely chuckled and prepared to pass an amiable hour until Luke returned.

* * *

The handbrake screeched in protest as Luke pulled the truck to a stop outside the hospital. He spared a worried glance down at the clock on the dashboard. "I shouldn't have had that second slice of toast," he muttered. "We've been away too long." From beside him, Lorelai placed a firm, restraining hand on his arm.

"Luke," she began, insistently, "you _needed_ to eat or you were going to collapse on your feet and you both needed a change of clothes. Jess has been sleeping and you've been with him all night. That's _all night_, Luke! Rory is more than capable of keeping him company for half an hour until you get back."

He didn't look convinced and secretly, Lorelai knew her friend wasn't going to relax until he was back at his nephew's side again. Actually, scratch that: until he had Jess safely back home again and disengaged from those monitors and wires. For her sake though, Luke attempted a weary smile and half-hearted nod, the shadows under his eyes belying his efforts.

His hand went to the door handle but instead of pushing it down and swinging the door open, as she had been expecting him to do, Luke simply sat for a moment, one hand resting on the handle, the other gripping the steering wheel. Lorelai leaned back against her seat and waited. She knew when Luke had something to say, even if he didn't realise it yet.

Eventually, he gripped both hands on the wheel and buried his face in his arms. "What am I doing, Lorelai?"

"Uh, right this second?" she queried, preferring to cage her answer in uncertainty than face the conversation she knew was coming. He glanced across at her and breathed a mirthless laugh through his nose.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her long hair. "You're doing your best, Luke," she answered, honestly. "You're doing the best anyone could ever ask for under the circumstances." She reached over and patted him on the back. "Kids get sick – it happens but you can't beat yourself up about it. You're doing your best."

"The nice people in suits at the Child Protection Services don't seem to think my best is good enough."

At this her eyes widened and her jaw dropped a few centimetres. "The _who_? Saying _what_?"

"Yup. They called me in to a meeting today – _someone_ has raised concerns over Jess' welfare." He let out a bitter laugh. "Three guesses who that might be." Beside him, Lorelai fought to wrap her brain around this latest development. Seeing her floundering, Luke supplied: "Franklin Mariano – it can't be anyone else."

She gasped. "Man, I hate that guy!" Luke gave a low chuckle.

"So you don't want to marry him, now?" She shook her head, animatedly.

"Bury a pick-axe in his head, maybe. But he has most definitely lost my favour!" Lorelai let out a low whistle then put a comforting hand on his arm. "What does Liz have to say about it?"

"She's backing Franklin. I got a letter from her lawyers." He paused at her raised eyebrows. "Yes, Liz has lawyers. I spoke to her last night. That piece of slime has convinced her Jess will be living the high life with him and that Liz can see him whenever she wants."

"Man," his friend exclaimed, softly. "I didn't think a mother could _be_ so naïve about what's best for her own kid." Her heart went out to her friend – God only knew the man didn't deserve this on top of everything else he'd struggled through over the last few months. "So what are you going to do?"

Then Luke looked at her and shrugged. "Do?" he repeated. He let out a bitter, tired sigh. "I'm not so sure I should _do_ anything."

Lorelai couldn't have been expecting a more different response. She shook her head as if to clear her ears out. "You _what_?"

Luke was looking more determined now. He leaned back in his seat and fixed her with a pointed look. "Maybe they're right," he continued. "Hell! He's ended up in hospital twice, I keep losing my temper with him, he's barely making it through the school gates every morning and the kid hates everything there is to hate about me, the diner and this whole damned town!" Lorelai simply shook her head, willing herself not to be having this conversation.

"Maybe," Luke continued, "Franklin damned Mariano _is_ the best thing for him!"

"Okay!" Lorelai suddenly interrupted, flinging up a hand in protest. "Okay, hold it right there, mister!" He stopped but she could see the emotion and adrenaline still trying to propel him forwards, even as he reluctantly waited to see what she had to say. And she wasn't even _sure_ what she wanted to say. She just hoped it would come to her in the next few seconds.

And it did, along with an unexpected wave of anger. "You can't talk like this, Luke! You can't give up."

"Why not?" he shot back. "I've _done_ my best, Lorelai. I've worried myself into an early grave trying to do right by the kid and I've _still_ failed! I failed _every_ time. I know I'm supposed to be Luke Danes – the guy who fixes _everything_ but I'm only human!" He was breathing more quickly now and fought to hold back the tears swimming at the back of his eyes.

"So what?!" she all but yelled, surprised by the emotions she could feel welling up inside of her. "He's not _everything_, Luke – he's not one of those little tasks you've got to tick off on your to-do list: he's your nephew. You're finding it tough? Well get used to it! Things don't get any easier." Luke blinked in shock.

"You're angry," he remarked, a little taken aback. "I didn't expect you to be angry with me."

"And neither did I!" she snapped back, her affection towards her friend warring with the conflict of her anger. "And you're my friend and I love you and I want to support you but I _am_ mad!"

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated, incredulously, batting him hard on the arm. "Because you're willing to give up on him, Luke! _You_. All you've been saying since he got here was how badly the kid just needed a break and now that he finally needs someone to fight for him, you've just shrugged your shoulders and walked away. Well you don't get to do that, Luke! It isn't that easy."

Luke was losing his stance now, the confusion and sadness washing over his face. It broke her heart to see it and to know how close he was coming to a decision that would haunt him forever. "But Lorelai," he began, pleading. "You don't understand."

"Oh don't I? I'm sorry Luke but life is tough, being a parent is tough and you're going to be faced with a thousand times when you wonder if you know what the hell you're doing. But you don't get to give in – your kid deserves better than that."

She paused and took a calming breath before continuing in a slightly gentler tone. "You think it's been easy for me? Being sixteen and pregnant? Raising a kid when I still felt like one myself?" Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Lorelai pressed on. "Walking in to parent-teacher evenings and _seeing_ them look at you then do the math in their heads?"

He remained silent, his lips pressed together tightly. He looked so lost, she thought, sadly. "You've made a commitment, Luke," she pressed. "And I know it's scary but you have to believe you're what Jess needs. And you have to believe he's worth the struggle."

Still, Luke said nothing but he gave a slow, shallow nod. Whether that was to show he agreed with her or just to show he had acknowledged her words, she wasn't quite sure. He finally put his hand back on the door handle and pushed down, firmly, letting it swing open.

"Does Jess know about Franklin's plan?" Luke shook his head. His hand travelled to his coat pocket, causing him to frown.

"I haven't told him about the letter yet. I was going to, but…" he trailed off, mutely. "Any way," he continued. "I can't find it now, in any case. Must have left it at home." With one hand, he reached over into the back seat and pulled Jess' bag over to the front.

"And Luke?" He paused, one foot hovering outside of the cab. "Go be with your nephew, tell him how much you care about him. But whatever you do, however mad you may get _never_ tell him you were going to quit on him: ever."

Luke didn't look at her but instead hopped down from the truck. But before he slammed the door, he looked her in the eye and nodded. "I promise." The door slammed and she sat there, almost numb for a moment before stirring herself into action. Swinging her own door open, she landed on the snow-covered ground with soft thud, slamming the door to be sure it caught.

He began the walk up to the sliding doors of the entrance and Lorelai quickly jogged to catch up with him. The older man was staring blankly ahead, alternately casting his eyes down to the tracks he was making in the snow. When she finally drew level with him, Lorelai placed a gently restraining hand on his arm and Luke pulled up short and turned to face her. The hint of defeat lining his worried brow made her heart and stomach ache.

"Luke," she urged, softly. "You're tired – I mean you're _really_ worn out. But that talk back there – that was just because of it, right? I mean, no one would blame you for feeling overwhelmed – no one! I get that. I really, truly do. Heck, even _Taylor_ would have to admit it and I'm sorry for launching on you a minute ago." She stopped and squeezed his arm. "But you'll feel differently when you and Jess have settled down, when you've had some rest. Right?"

Ever so tenderly, ever so precisely Luke pulled out of her grasp. "I'd better take Jess his things," he mumbled, striding away quickly before his tears spilt over.

* * *

Right – stayed tuned. Jess and Luke scenes to follow! As you can see, I have tried to add a little Rory into the picture but forcing that scene out literally made me want to curl up and die so, unless she can further the plot in a way that no other character can, I don't envisage her coming in to it a whole lot more!

Thanks for reading this far. If you felt like dropping me a word or two to say what you thought, I'd love to hear from you 


	13. Chapter 13

Fire and Ice – Chapter 13

Standard disclaimer… tiresome things to write.

A/N – See? I'm trying to update more frequently. I just hope I can keep it up! Thank you to everyone you either reviewed the last chapter or added the story to their alerts or favourites: I'm glad you're still enjoying it. Thanks also to _**lax_chick**__, __**obsessed_wiv_everything**__, __**sisterdear**__, __**siriuslyrory**_ and _**Natalie**_ – sorry I couldn't reply to you personally but I really appreciate your reviews.

* * *

"Knock, knock! How're you feeling?" Smiling, Luke poked his head a little way around Jess' hospital room door before pushing it open fully and stepping inside. His nephew was lying down in bed, Rory having stepped outside to the vending machines. Luke grinned as he noticed the opened notepad lying on the bedside table, numerous games of Hangman and what looked like some kind of guess the song lyrics game, littering its pages. God – the girl was worth her weight in gold, sometimes.

For his part, Jess struggled to sit up, carefully shunting up the mattress whilst attempting not to yank wires from his body. Immediately Luke moved to his side and Jess didn't protest or pull away as the older man adjusted his tangled blanket until it was out of the way and helped to lift him up comfortably against his pillows. Jess' eyes flicked up and down once to Luke's face. "Thanks," he mumbled, quietly.

"So, kid. You doing okay, this morning?"

Jess shrugged, his voice subdued and just a touch sullen. "Peachy." Then he nodded to the carryall by Luke's feet. "Is that my stuff?" His uncle reached down a hand in response and hauled it on to the bed, mindful of the tender bruises covering his nephew and trying hard not to land the heavy item directly on top of him.

"Ah, well most of your stuff is still littering the apartment floor. These are just a few essentials, you know." He paused, suddenly appearing awkward and embarrassed. "I picked up a few of your books but I didn't really know the ones you really like to read, so…"

"Rory brought me some," Jess cut in, quickly. He hadn't meant for the simple statement to sound as harsh and dismissive as it had but it was too late to take it back. Inwardly, Jess winced at the way it came out.

"Oh, right!" Luke hastily agreed, a hint of red creeping into his cheeks. He waved a nonchalant hand. "Yeah, of course she did. That's probably much better. She being as freakishly smart as you and all that – probably knows all the right books to keep you interested." He gave a self-conscious laugh, both of them aware that he was nervously rambling. "I've probably brought you the equivalent of Dr. Seuss or something."

The embarrassment and self-deprecation was so evident in the older man's face and voice that Jess ached to speak up in his defence – to assure his uncle that he was by no means stupid, that whatever books he kindly brought were fine. But something just held him back from being so precise. Instead, he glanced down at his hands, toying with the blankets and gave a half-hearted response.

"S'okay. Probably shouldn't be reading too much anyway. Gotta get my beauty sleep and all that." Luke nodded, gratefully and Jess felt his face warm with guilt. "Thanks for the bag," he added, still unsure of where to look.

"Not a problem." Uneasily, Luke perched on the edge of the bed, wincing when he felt the bed suddenly dip down under his weight. He was sure the last thing Jess probably wanted was to be rocked about any more. But Jess didn't seem to even notice, much less be bothered about it. "So, Jess. You're looking better," Luke observed. He leaned forward and tried to place an assessing hand on the kid's forehead but the moment Jess shied back into the pillows behind his head, Luke recalled his hand. And Jess found that he actually missed the gentle contact that simple gesture would have brought.

From beside him, the young man heard his uncle take a deep breath. Mentally, he prepared himself for an awkward moment, aware that Luke probably wanted to talk about something serious, and that usually involved feelings and emotions. His heart clenched a little as his thoughts returned to his mysterious letter: or rather _Luke's_ letter. Had his uncle realised it was gone yet? Jess didn't know. Was Luke about to explain it to him? The teenager unconsciously held his breath and waited.

"Jess?" He looked across at Luke, his only sign of acknowledgement. "I'm really sorry about the other night." Inwardly, Jess felt disappointment begin to creep in. "I was having a really crappy day, which wasn't your fault by the way, and then the police thing…"

He trailed off but his guilt-ridden eyes were enough to soften any resolve Jess might still have been harbouring to bear a grudge. Truth be told, the moment Luke had walked out of his hospital room the previous night, he'd longed for him to come back. He had only properly fallen asleep once his uncle had returned to sit by his side, against the nurses' advice, of course. Seeing Rory on waking had been a pleasant occurrence but Jess couldn't help but realise how much he had been hoping it would have been Luke there.

"Forget about it," he dismissed uneasily, unwilling to dwell on the topic any longer.

"But I should have _seen_ how sick you were and I never should have…" Luke started to protest, almost as if he hadn't heard his nephew. At that, however, Jess suddenly changed. The uneasiness seemed to evaporate and a bitter anger took up residence in its place. He snorted a hard laugh.

"Jesus, Luke! I think if I can survive wire hangers and socket wrenches then I can sure as hell survive _you_." The words were almost spat out and Luke could see the dark, tempestuous masses swirling beneath the boy's eyes. Instinctively, he drew back just a fraction. He'd never seen such ferocity in the boy before. "You were _nothing_, you got that?" Jess continued, heatedly, almost shouting. "Nothing." Finally he stopped and took a breath that rattled only minutely.

He sucked his bottom lip in for a second, clenching it between his teeth to stop the tremor. "So can we drop it now?" His voice had almost returned to normal, only a slightly colder edge serving as a reminder to a conversation Luke would just as soon never hear again. Yet at the same time, the urge to delve deeper into that statement, to explore every avenue of it and put right past wrongs, was painful to resist.

But this was neither the time nor the place. Knowing Jess, was knowing when to pick your battles and which ones to choose. So instead, Luke simply nodded. "Sure."

Some of the tension eased from Jess' taut frame as the boy's hands moved to distractedly pull at the wires of his drip. Luke's hand was there instantly, without premeditation, gently pushing the kid's fingers away from it. Jess complied quietly with the unspoken instruction.

Luke simply couldn't figure the kid out. He'd expected him to be angry about the other night but it seemed as though Jess just couldn't give a damn. Then when the kid _did_ explode at him, Luke expected him to try to resist any further instructions or orders he gave him. But instead, Jess was back to being compliant – well, as compliant as he usually was. It was as though someone was busy randomly flipping mood switches inside the kid's brain. Then he stopped short and almost slapped his forehead in an exclamation of stupidity: Jess was delirious with fever last night, was still in incredible bouts of pain and was currently drugged to the eyeballs. If anyone had a right to be physically and emotionally unbalanced, it was Jess.

"Is Lorelai here?" Jess suddenly asked. Luke blinked in surprise. Something about the way Jess had asked the question made it sound a little more than just a casual enquiry. What did _Jess_ want to see Lorelai for? Rory, he could understand, but his nephew only exchanged brief, casual words with his friend. For the first time, a pang of…was that jealousy…struck Luke square in the chest. He quickly recovered, however.

"Yeah. I think she was going to look for Rory. She's probably caught up with her by now." Jess nodded to himself. He seemed pensive for a moment, lost in thought. Hesitantly, Luke decided to hedge his bets. "Do you…want me to see if I can find her?" Jess didn't respond immediately. He just gave a half-shrug in one shoulder.

"Don't mind," he muttered. It took all the will power Luke had not to choke on his surprise.

"Well," he began, rising from the bed. "I guess I should try and find your doctor to check in with him anyway. If I bump into Lorelai on the way, I'll send her in."

"Whatever," came the typical teenage response and Luke had to smile in spite of himself. Impulsively, he leant in and ran a hand down the side of Jess' face, relieved when the worst response he was treated to was a rolling of the eyes and a weary sigh.

As Luke pulled away, however, Jess caught him by surprise. "Luke?" he asked, suddenly and the boy's eyes were once more wary, guarded as if expecting an attack…or a deception. Luke stopped.

"What's the matter?" he questioned.

"There's nothing else wrong is there?" Jess pressed. "I mean, besides me in the hospital. Everything else is ok, right?" And Luke hesitated for a moment and longed to tell Jess everything: about the letter, about Liz, about that scum of a grandfather of his, even about the CPS investigation.

But one look at Jess' still pale, shaky body, the dark, almost bruised circles deep under his eyes, the gaunt frame, too thin from lack of proper regular meals, not to mention the boy's recent emotional vulnerability, and Luke knew he just couldn't do that to him. Even if it meant harbouring the secret himself for a little longer – it was a burden he could bear. And what of his own misgivings – his own doubts, expressed to Lorelai only minutes earlier? Her admonition to him to never reveal his doubts to Jess suddenly resurfaced in his mind. Until _he_ could make sense of them, he could _never_ bring the topic up with Jess.

The hesitation was for but a moment. Luke shook his head, firmly, plastered a reassuring grin on his face and patted Jess on the leg. "Everything's fine, Jess," he insisted. "You just concentrate on getting well. I'm not going to know what to do with myself if I'm not tripping over you in the apartment or waiting an hour for the bathroom every morning. So you need to hurry on out of here." He gave the leg he was holding another light squeeze. "Okay?"

Jess' eyes lowered to the bed sheets. "Yeah," he responded, quietly. "Sure."

"Good," the older man remarked, warmly, glad to have averted the conversation for the time being. Then he smiled at Jess again before turning and leaving the room. With a sinking heart, Jess watched him go.

* * *

_No solids_. That was what the beefy nurse (who Jess was convinced was actually a man in drag) had barked at him while doing the pre-lunch rounds. When Lorelai sauntered in she found Jess in a typical pose: arms folded across his stomach and sarcasm lacing his features. "Fine then," she heard him drawl. "Just give me a beer and feed it right in here." With a nod of his head he indicated the drip beside the bed, a sardonic smile curling his mouth up in one corner. The nurse rolled her beady, piggy little eyes and puffed out her considerable chest in aggravation. She opened her mouth, preparing to argue with a teenager who thrived on conflict. Lorelai grinned to herself and though she secretly longed to watch the skilled teenager take down a far larger opponent, she supposed it was time to be the responsible adult.

"I'm sure whatever tasty cocktail of nutrients you have prepared in that IV bag there, will do just fine," she announced, making her presence known to the both of them. Jess merely rolled his eyes while the nurse's scowl deepened. "Just add a touch of Tabasco sauce – gives it that little kick." She winked, conspiratorially at the unimpressed nurse. The heavy-set woman blew a stream of air through clenched teeth, said nothing, whipped Jess' chart into her hands and then stalked out of the room. Lorelai darted out of her way as she went.

"Wow," she remarked, watching the woman's retreat. "I guess with hospital cutbacks, the first thing to go is the sense of humour."

Jess didn't respond immediately but the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth showed that he was in a listening mood. She just might have to work on him a little before the boy was ready to spill. Rory was always so easy to get to open up: she and her daughter didn't exactly suffer from long periods of silence. But teenage boys? Particularly taciturn ones like Jess, it was wavering just a little outside of her comfort zone.

But when Luke had mentioned, as casually as he could, that Jess wanted to see her, she simply couldn't resist knowing what it was about. Lorelai could tell her friend had been surprised at the request but oddly, she wasn't; at least not so much. For some reason, the prospect just didn't feel unnatural, as unlikely a prospect as it appeared.

Luke, however, she got the impression did not share her feelings. The last thing the young woman wanted to do was cause any weirdness between the two of them (and not just for the sake of her coffee and danish) but it seemed obvious that Jess needed a neutral pair of ears to listen to him.

"So," she announced, hovering by his bed. "I bumped in to Luke and seeing as how you're all alone in here now, I thought I'd swing by and make sure you hadn't given the hospital staff nervous breakdowns or anything."

"I'm working on it," Jess said, quietly. "But I'm having to work at half-speed." He lifted his arms to demonstrate the collection of wires and tubes that lifted with him. She smiled, trying not to make it too condescending or sympathetic.

"So I see. How're you doing?" He made a neutral sound and shrugged. "Mind if I sit down?" she asked. Again, he shrugged. She took it as a positive sign. Spying the chair, Lorelai dumped her purse on the floor and went and dragged the chair to Jess' bedside. Jess raised his eyebrows in mild surprise as she did this. He'd been expecting her to just park herself on his bed like Rory and Luke had but now that she had retrieved the comfy chair and brought it closer, Jess realised how grateful he was to be given company but also breathing room. He wasn't, after all, a naturally tactile person and, while he was getting better at it, there were moments when he still craved his personal space.

Once Lorelai was settled, she leaned forwards towards him. "Luke won't be long," she informed Jess, reassuringly. "He's just trying to track down your doctor."

"Thanks for coming." Jess' voice was quiet and rushed as if it were the part of the conversation he had desperately wanted to get out of the way, but obviously, sincerely meant. She smiled, warmly at him and nodded her head. "I have a naturally comforting aura and as such, enjoy visiting the sick and infirm – makes good use of my God-given talent." Jess scowled at the jibe but without malice.

Then he seemed to retreat a little further back in to the pillows. Lorelai was beginning to recognise that Jess had several _kinds_ of silence, like most people had several tones of voice. This silence was withdrawn, pensive, vulnerable. It made her want to reach over and touch him but that would have been overstepping their fragile line. So instead she folded her hands in her lap until the temptation passed. Just like his stubborn uncle, when Jess had something important to say, he took his time saying it. Just when she'd becoming an agony aunt for Danes boys, she didn't know. But she didn't mind it, either. They needed a guiding woman in their lives and if, for the time being she could fill that role then Lorelai was very happy to.

Suddenly, he looked up at her and for a moment it was as though she were replaying the scene with Luke in the cab of his truck. But when Jess spoke, his voice held an edge to it that she couldn't quite identify: a little anger, a little sadness and perhaps a touch of fear? "What do the doctors say?"

She blinked in surprise. "They haven't told you?"

Jess narrowed his eyes. "Nobody tells me anything." Lorelai shrugged a little helplessly.

"I'm not sure, really. Luke is getting an update, though. I'm sure he'll fill you in as soon as he has any news." She'd meant to sound reassuring and comforting but for some reason, it only seemed to darken Jess' expression and cause his lips to press together into a thin line. "He'll come find you," she promised again. "He's very good at getting answers out of people."

"He's a liar," Jess returned, softly, anger rippling in his voice.

Lorelai sat up straight, the wind knocked out of her sails. She suspected Luke and his nephew were on uneven terrain but she'd never heard Jess accuse him of anything like that. Before she could question Jess on it, though the boy saved her the effort.

He awkwardly reached behind him and from under his pillow, retrieved the folded envelope. He handed it to her and she received it without a word. Her mouth opened in a question as she looked at Luke's name on the address. Instinctively, she began to suspect what this letter was about. Carefully, Lorelai slid the letter out of the envelope. It was printed on thick-weave, expensive paper, strengthening her suspicions. Next to her, the anger had drained from Jess. He now looked scared, confused.

Quickly, she scanned the letter: it didn't need to be read in detail for her to get the message. Just as quickly as she started reading, Lorelai looked up to Jess. "Oh, Jess," she began, softly. She sighed. "Luke doesn't know you've seen this?" The kid shook his head.

"He's forever on at me about honesty, talking to each other and crap like that," he all but choked out, bitterly. "And you know, I was actually starting to buy it." He laughed. "But he doesn't mean it. It's one way for him and another for me."

"Jess," she tried again but he cut her off.

"Did you know about it?" Sighing, she nodded.

"Yeah, sweetie," she admitted. "He told me this morning, after breakfast." She watched his jaw grind. "But it's going to be okay, I promise. You just need to talk to him." Her heart ached when she saw the first hints of moisture in his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotions. When her phone started ringing, Lorelai suddenly realised why Luke hated the interruption in his diner, as much as he did. Jess looked away, breaking their eye contact.

She winced apologetically and held up one finger as if asking him to give her a minute. Then she quickly moved to the door to take her call. As Suky related to her the latest catastrophe to befall the Inn, Lorelai couldn't help waving an impatient hand in the air.

Finally, after what seemed like the longest two minutes of her life, she turned back round only to be met with a very unwelcome sight. Jess was sitting up, his legs over the edge of the bed, struggling with all his might to get out of bed.

"Jess!" she called, running back to his side. "Jess what are you doing?" He pushed against her restraining hands, still striving to leave.

"Get off me," he mumbled, desperately. "I'm getting out of here." Lorelai glanced over her shoulder to the door. Logic told her to call for the nurses or orderlies to help but instinct told her to keep this as private as she could.

"Jess!" she tried again. "You've got to stop this. You're going to hurt yourself." The words had barely been spoken before a faint popping sound registered in her ears. Jess didn't even notice as needle in the back of his hand pulled out, the tape hanging uselessly off on one side. "Jess, what's going on? Talk to me."

"He doesn't care!" Jess almost pleaded with her. "He doesn't even want me around and I'm not sticking around here to be shipped back home. Back to Liz." The tears were in his voice, even if he wouldn't let them fall. And for a moment, Lorelai's thoughts turned deadly: if Luke had said anything, _anything_ to this kid, she was going to kick his ass! Jess pushed against her again, this time shoving her back a few paces.

"Jess! Quit it, _right now_!" She'd rarely used that tone of voice with her own daughter, much less a teenager who wasn't even hers. But whatever the case, it apparently did the trick because Jess suddenly ceased his struggling as if all his energy had been drained.

He slumped back dejectedly on the bed and Lorelai quickly guided him into swinging his legs back round onto the bed. As soon as he was back on the bed, he collapsed against the pillows, leaning against the headboard. He drew his legs up to his chest as Lorelai re-draped the blankets over him. She glanced down at his bleeding hand. He needed to get that seen to but right now there were more pressing matters. She took a deep breath. "What makes you think that, Jess?" she questioned, softly, seating herself tentatively back on her chair but resting her forearms on the mattress of his bed.

Jess was shaking: his arms were rattling by his side and he tried to press them firmly down so they wouldn't be noticeable. But the tremors across his face gave him away. The concentration he was using trying to hold back his emotions was intense. She slowly placed a hand on the side of his face, gently turning his face to meet hers. "Sweetie? Why would you think that?" she repeated.

Jess took a shaky breath, still not meeting her eyes. "He won't tell me about it. I asked him if there was anything wrong and he denied it. I know why: he doesn't want to talk about it because he doesn't want to tell me he's not going to _do_ anything!" His companion sighed and shook her head. Damn, these Danes men could be as stubbornly stupid as each other some times. But whatever her feelings about it, Jess was currently in need of reassurance. It always surprised her, just how deep his insecurities ran.

His eyes welled up and Jess quickly, angrily looked away from her. At that moment, Lorelai's maternal instincts and urges suddenly kicked in to overdrive and she stood from her chair, just as Jess shifted minutely over on the bed. Quickly, she slid down next to him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, guiding his head back around. "It's going to be okay, Jess," she soothed. "You just need to talk to Luke and you boys will straighten this whole thing out." Beneath her arm, Lorelai could feel the tension in Jess' body. "Don't worry," she assured him, quietly. "Luke and Rory are still looking for your doctor. No one's coming in here."

He nodded, a small slight gesture then let his tears of insecurities start to fall, slowly. She squeezed his arm and leaned her head lightly against the side of his. "He loves you, Jess, more than anything. Not fighting for you would be the dumbest thing the man could do and I would never let that happen. You hear me?" She chuckled. "You should by now have realised what power we Gilmore women actually wield around here." She was rewarded with the faintest of smiles.

Jess quickly drew a hand to his face and scrubbed at his eyes, wiping away any lingering evidence of moisture. Embarrassment took over. "Sorry," he whispered but he didn't push her away. Exhaustion had swept over him.

"For what?" Lorelai demanded. But she didn't give him a chance to respond. Instead, she gave his shoulders one last squeeze and whispered, more to herself than to Jess: "We'd better get someone take a look at that hand." Then she slid off the bed and left to call the nurse back in.

* * *

That's it for now. Don't worry, folks, Lorelai is not set to replace Luke in Jess' affections – she's just a temporary sounding board for him and a neutral shoulder to cry on for the this chapter. Luke's still the man! Hopefully, with the holidays kind of upon me, I'll get a chance to do some more.

Oh, by the way, I took a chance that because I've played the game Hangman with my American friend, that it's a well-known game in America as it is in England. If not, please feel free to Google it – it's a good way to wile away a dull moment :-)


	14. Chapter 14

Fire and Ice – Chapter 14

Hey there! Hope you all had good Christmases and New Years. I had a slight disaster in that my laptop was wiped squeaky clean after a virus and I lost ALL of my stories – emails, work and other stuff too, of course but the most significant one would be everything I've ever written, some of it posted and some of it not. And do I have a back-up? Of course not! *sigh*. I guess that's a lesson learnt :-p

Anyway, a huge thank-you to everyone who has encouraged me by leaving a review. I know that interest in this story is dwindling quite a bit so I really, _truly_ do appreciate all of you who are still reading and are kind enough to let me know :-)

Also, a personal thanks to _**Finnigan Geist**_ who I have thoroughly enjoyed swapping comments with and whose encouragement has really helped push me on. And if anybody by any small miracle hasn't checked out _Sawdust and Ashes_ yet then I sincerely recommend that you do so!

***

By the time Luke returned to Jess' room the boy had slipped into natural exhaustion. It wasn't clear when he eventually lost the battle he had been struggling to win against the tugging fingers of slumber but Lorelai's rhythmic fingertips gently raking through the top of his bangs had slowly but surely made his eyelids heavier and heavier until they had sealed shut. She'd moved back to her chair, uneasy about being the only one in such close proximity to a sleeping Jess. The young mother had noticed his reluctance to sleep – it was more than reluctance: it was more like fear. If he was asleep, he wasn't in control – he didn't know who was in his room, what they were doing. He could hardly defend an attack he couldn't see.

When she saw Luke, hovering in the doorway, unashamed curiosity shining in his eyes she offered him a weak smile. Quietly he crept forward. As his friend began to rise, clearly offering him the chair he held up a hand to forestall her gesture. Hesitantly, Lorelai lowered herself back into the chair, hoping that if Luke chose to rest on Jess' bed, he wouldn't disturb him. Thankfully, Luke didn't. The older man rested so carefully on the edge of the mattress that Jess didn't even stir. Ignoring Lorelai for the moment, Luke focused his attention on the sleeping Jess.

Simply taking in his nephew's innocent, peaceful condition was enough to make his heart beat awkwardly trying to filter the energy of an emotion the man wasn't entirely used to feeling. Could he cope with never feeling that again, Luke wondered? Loathe to wake him but suddenly aching to connect with the boy, Luke stretched out a hand to Jess' back as his nephew lay facing away from him. Mere centimetres from contact and Luke's fingers instantly retracted, leaping away from the thin hospital gown covering the teenager's back. He held his breath and the silently watching Lorelai held hers, too. But suddenly Luke seemed to reach a decision in his mind. Shifting his resolve from his heart to his mind then to his hand, Luke breached the gap between his nephew and him, fingers gently brushing against the boy's back. A faint smile drew the grizzled man's mouth up in one corner.

Jess sighed in his sleep but he didn't wake. Lorelai watched, almost entranced as reverently, Luke began rubbing small, soothing circles. Would Jess allow this of Liz? Of Franklin? Luke wasn't so sure any more. Giving him up – was that something he could actually live with? At that moment he felt Jess shift beneath his hand. Instantly, he recoiled, snapping his hand back into his own space as he watched, dismayed, as Jess started to wake.

However, Jess wasn't waking. Still caught in sleep, Jess rolled over until he was facing his uncle. Unconsciously, Jess shifted inches closer to the form some part of his mind was telling him was there. Luke rested a warm, reassuring hand on the side of the boy's face, tears pricking his eyes as the kid moved into his touch. Luke bit his lip: he'd never been the cornerstone of _anyone's_ life. At the start of this whole ride with Jess, he'd just wanted to give the kid a place to stay: a roof over his head and a kind word to guide him on his way. An emotionally stunted uncle who'd barely managed to garner a relationship that lasted longer than a year was not equipped to be anything more than a friendly face to a troubled kid. So what right did he, Luke Danes have to claim he could now be a father to this boy?

"You're so good with him." The whispered declaration from beside him suddenly reminded Luke that his friend was still in the room. Apologetically, he finally turned to Lorelai though his hand remained on Jess' cheek.

Luke scoffed, quietly, secretly relishing the compliment. "You think?"

Undeterred, she fixed him with a determined smile. "I know."

"Funny," Luke commented, a strain to his voice. "The kid and I don't seem to agree on that while he's awake." Lorelai simply waved a dismissive hand in the air and gave a shrug of indifference.

"Ah – what kid does? But it's clear he trusts you above _all_ others. That's gotta mean something, you know?" Luke glanced back down to Jess' sleeping form, hesitating fractionally before speaking.

He gave an awkward half laugh. "It seems he trusts you, too huh? Looks like…looks like the two of you made a connection." Truthfully, the apparent ease with which Lorelai Gilmore, a woman who had been distrustful of Jess almost from the very beginning, could align herself with and gain the trust of his nephew sent pangs of jealousy rippling through him. Inwardly, Lorelai winced. She'd known this accusation was coming from the minute she'd heard Jess wanted to talk to her.

She took a deep breath, attempting to look as innocent as she could. "Luke," she began, placatingly. "I wouldn't read anything in to this. Jess just needed someone else to talk to for a while."

Luke spared her a quick glance and a sad smile. "Wasn't me then, huh?"

"Of course it's you!" Lorelai insisted, leaning forwards in her chair and taking his arm in her hand. "It always has been and it will be when he wakes up." The young brunette watched her friend nod, slowly but the light still shone only dimly in his eyes. Biting back a frustrated sigh, she tried again.

"I think he just needed…I don't know. Maybe a _woman_ to talk to? You know, when you're sick it's like a natural instinct to want it: kind of like a comforting presence. Maybe he missed it?"

Luke let out a harsh laugh, his eyes turning stony for second. "I don't think _Liz_ ever exuded a _comforting presence_ even when _was_ sick." And Lorelai's eyes, for a moment tinged with regret.

"Then maybe he misses it all the more."

As she watched some of the uncertainty leave his face, Lorelai gave the arm she was holding one last squeeze before releasing him and sitting back.

"Where's Rory?" she asked, suddenly.

"That's right. I meant to tell you. She said she was going to wait for you in the cafeteria. She's trying out the chocolate cake there." Lorelai gasped in mock horror.

"Without me?"

Luke shrugged. "She said she'd need a head-start with you and I kind of have to agree with her."

"Mock all you want, mister but it is an _art-form_."

"What, gluttony?"

"Precisely." Luke shook his head in bewilderment.

"Yeah well it was a deadly sin the last time I checked."

Lorelai tutted, disparagingly. "Luke, the last time you checked the Bible, Moses and the Israelites were still waiting at the Red Sea for the lights to change." The ease back in to the light-hearted bantering was telling, like slipping in to a worn but comfortable pair of shoes. She was preparing to leave and they both saw the signs and all of a sudden, Luke wasn't sure that he wanted her to go. There had been something almost tangible hanging in the air between he and his nephew, seeping into the skin like damp on a wall. Luke wasn't entirely certain he knew how to pierce it.

Lorelai eased herself forwards in her chair; another signal, another warning.

"Thanks," Luke murmured, quietly. "You've given Jess and me so much time and you didn't have to." Even as she waved off his thanks, Luke pressed on: "No, I really mean it. I'm not sure we could do this without you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she assured him, gathering her bag from the floor. But before she rose, Lorelai fixed him with a serious look. "He knows, Luke." For a second, Luke just stared at her, eyes searching for her meaning, uncomprehending. Then it began to dawn. "He's got the letter," she continued to explain. The older man closed his eyes in dismay, shaking his head.

"I wondered where that had gone." He paused, staring closely at Jess as if trying to detect his feelings from an impassive expression, lax in sleep. It would certainly clear up the confusion over Jess' animosity towards him earlier that morning. "How'd he take it?"

Lorelai smiled, sadly. "He's scared, Luke. He thinks your not talking to him about it means you want to avoid the topic because you don't want to keep him."

"What?" Luke shook his head in disbelief ignoring, for the moment, the fact that he'd been considering just that possibility only a matter of hours earlier. "But I was going to talk to him about it before he got sick. Things just…got a little crazy." Lorelai rose and placed a warm hand on his shoulder, leaning in to peck him on the cheek.

"Then just explain that to him," she assured her friend. "But let him know he's safe with you." Then with one final smile, she left to find her daughter leaving uncle and nephew alone.

* * *

By the time Jess was ready to leave the hospital, the doctors and nurses were more than ready to see him go. If the young man wasn't busy wavering from being detached and non-committal to snide, sarcastic and biting then the crushing, almost suffocating emptiness they felt emanating from whatever place he had withdrawn into was almost too much to bear. They tiptoed by him in a hushed presence as they checked monitors, withdrew blood and delivered meals as though bearing witness to a very silent, very personal form of grief. It hurt to watch.

Meals often went untouched or barely grazed. If it hadn't been for Luke's instance that being in the hospital was causing the lack of appetite, the medical team would probably have succeeded in extending the boy's stay even longer. As it was, they equipped Luke with a helpful pamphlet of information on the early warning signs of eating disorders and attached to it the business card of the hospital's out-patient paediatrics' counsellor. Luke had pocketed it with a grim, tight smile. The last thing he needed to add to his record of parenting was sending Jess to a shrink given it would raise pertinent issues of why he suddenly needed psychiatric help as soon as he moved in with his uncle.

Not that it would have swayed his decision should he have felt Jess honestly, without question would benefit from the help. If that were the case then Luke wouldn't hesitate to call them, Hell! He might just make an appointment or too for himself while he was at it. If the criteria for accusing Jess of craziness, was disillusionment at their current situation, then they may as well open up a cosy, padded room for _him_ as well. Some days it was all he could do to look at Jess and his broken, silent retreat without high-tailing it out of the hospital, leaping into his truck and speeding all the way to New York to knock down his sister's door and shake some sense into her. He'd beat the living crap out of Clyde, too while he was at it. His hands were still itching for a round two.

Apart from the occasional answer to mundane questions such as _was his seatbelt done up _and _did he want the radio on_, Jess was silent on the trip back to the diner. He'd made that particular journey more times than he cared to think about. By now, Luke was used to and even comfortable with Jess' prolonged bouts of silence knowing full well the boy could talk at an interstate champion level if the occasion and the topic inspired him. But this was somehow different. The silence was cloying and it made you want to scrape and dig your way out of it with your fingertips – to forge an air-bubble in the suffocating weight before you were crushed by it.

The lights ahead of him blinked to red and Luke reluctantly drew the vehicle to a halt at the line. The momentum of the truck had somehow been helping to keep their thoughts running on as well, to stop either one of them from dwelling on an unsavoury topic for too long. Luke's foot tapped lightly, impatiently against the gas pedal. As predicted, his thoughts strayed away from relative safety and onto the latest round of legal documents that sat concealed in his filing cabinet. Since Liz had introduced lawyers and letters and other documents he never thought he'd see in his life time, Luke had wasted no time in creating a section – a large section – of space in his filing system dedicated wholly to Jess.

In it he had piled Jess' medical records, his school records and the letters from his mother's lawyers and the more he found to put in to it, the more ashamed and incredulous Luke became that he hadn't even thought to create something like this for his nephew before.

The initial documents he had received from his own legal counsel were also filed at the front. Taking that step – that legal, _'I have a problem that I admit I can't solve on my own'_ step had been terrifying but, urged on by Lorelai, Luke had personally gone down to the offices of _Bertram White Asc_ while Jess had been sleeping and then scheduled for a round of tests. Lorelai had recommended them – they were reasonably priced but up and coming in stature: Luke suspected her father had given her the tip but he hadn't asked. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea of his personal life being discussed around the sharp politics of Friday Night Dinners despite the benefits they brought him.

Currently they were drawing up documents aimed to give him official temporary legal custody should a judge agree with their proposal. But their periods of silence made Luke nervous. Luke had never fought, actually, legally _fought_ for anything he had really and truly wanted in his life. That wasn't to suggest that he hadn't worked hard: on the contrary, Luke could barely remember a day in his life when he hadn't been met with a challenge or faced the prospect of a busy day.

But the things that he worked on: caring for his father, taking over the hardware business and turning it into a new venture – these things had been presented to him, almost thrust upon him whether he liked it or not. Luke's challenge had come from keeping up with the pace, from turning a vision into a reality. His ownership of that prospect, that vision – that had always, unquestionably been _his_.

However, now it seemed the status quo had been broken. It had started out fine, just like always: his reluctant nephew had been thrust upon an equally apprehensive uncle whether Luke liked it or not. Only now the kid was being pulled away again. If Luke wanted this particular vision to pan out he was going to have to go to battle.

Suddenly, the medieval notion of trial by combat, of rapiers at dawn made so much more sense to Luke. Legally questioning where Jess belonged was ridiculous: utterly laughable and making a mockery of the legal system. No-one in their right mind would think a boy like Jess would be better off with a sliver of slime like his grandfather. So when faced with an illogical bully like Franklin Mariano who didn't care about reason or right, the only way of sensibly sorting this out was to see which one of them could beat the living crap out of the other – at least until one of them didn't get up again. It would be a quick and undeniable supremacy.

The lights mercifully changed and Luke's foot was pressing down on the pedal so fast the tyres squealed. Jess shifted his glance from his lap to his uncle's foot for a second but otherwise made no comment. Luke snuck a discrete look at the kid as he rounded the corner to their street. He was looking far too thin – thinner than he'd seen him in weeks, his jaw-line sharp and collarbone uncomfortably noticeable. His face looked drained and his lips cracked. The teenager's eyes were dull betraying little or no emotion.

When the diner loomed into sight, Luke swung the truck into the kerb and yanked on the handbrake. When the engine died they both sat motionless for a moment. The air in the cab was cool now that the heater had been turned off and Luke watched for a second as his breath clouded in front of him. He was glad of the distraction – it gave his eyes something to focus on other than his waning nephew who was likely to snap completely at the next scrutinizing stare he was subjected to. However, Jess was never far from the older man's thoughts. If it was cold enough for his breath to be clouding, it was far too cold for the kid to be sitting there.

"You need a hand getting out?" Luke prompted uneasily. Jess' fatigue and lingering effects of his medication had meant that he'd needed help (much to his horror) getting _in_ to the cab of the truck. It had just been a supporting hand but it had been mortifying for Jess who had alternately glared daggers at the man and refused to make eye-contact at all and was therefore uncomfortable for his uncle.

But after a moment's pause Jess simply shook his head. He didn't seem angry; he didn't even appear sulky or uneasy. He just looked…_defeated_ and it shattered Luke's heart. Luke couldn't quite get his head around the shift in Jess' moods. He could understand if Jess were worried about the custody case or even still angry at him about his actions the night he was admitted. But it was as if something inside Jess just switched off and powered down. And sometimes, the way he caught Jess looking at him – detached and cautious - Luke wasn't even sure the kid _wanted_ to stay with him.

Given that little suspicion, Luke was even more reluctant to share with Jess the latest piece of legal jargon waiting for him at home. But he'd have to deal with that in a moment. Without further warning Jess swung open his door and carefully hopped down from the truck. He walked on towards the diner without bothering to shut his door. As Luke quickly followed his nephew, he slammed the passenger door shut and hurried on into the diner.

The diner was relatively full but Jess successfully managed to block each and every one of the curious customers as he stalked across the room and pushed his way through the curtain. In less time than it took Luke to close the diner's door behind him, he could hear the slam of the apartment door upstairs. Inwardly he winced. Well, at least Jess seemed relieved to be home – unless he was currently busy tossing all his belongings into a bag. With that thought in mind, Luke made extremely brief pleasantries with concerned customers before hurrying up to his apartment,

When he entered the apartment he didn't see him at first. Luke looked around in mild surprise until he spotted him. Jess was curled up so small, he lost ten years in age. He was huddled by the window on a chair he'd dragged over. The boy's feet were tucked beneath him and his arms wrapped themselves around his body. Jess' head was rested on one side and his glazed expression appeared to stare listlessly out of the window.

Very quietly, Luke set Jess' hospital bag down by the boy's bed and arranged the bottles of medication on the kitchen counter. Pink pills, blue pills, white pills: Luke tried his hardest but he couldn't remember what they did. A smile had flickered across Jess' face when he'd caught a sideways glimpse of his doctor explaining them to Luke. The perplexed diner owner thought he heard Jess mutter something about _Alice in Wonderland_ but was too busy trying to focus on which medication he needed to give out at which times to really give his nephew any attention.

Luke raked a hand through his hair, tugging a little at the roots then ran a hand over his tired, suddenly much older face. Jess hadn't moved from the window and didn't look as though he were about to any time soon. The boy started when he sensed his uncle standing behind him. Readying himself to argue – argue that he was perfectly fine sitting by the window, that he didn't want to eat or _need_ to sleep and that no, he _didn't_ want to talk about it, Jess turned his head towards Luke only to close his mouth in surprise when he felt a warm blanket being draped around his shoulders. He still didn't know what to say when Luke smiled benevolently down at him and smoothed a gentle hand through his hair. It felt good and something in Jess' stomach melted a little.

The blanket instantly started to warm him and it was only then that Jess realised he'd been cold. "Let me know if you need anything, okay buddy?" Luke continued to rub a thumb at the base of Jess' neck. Then he gave one shoulder a squeeze and turned to walk away. Jess watched his retreating form, numbly until his brain finally seemed to catch up with the rest of him and he could think of something to say.

"Thanks," he mumbled then turned his head sideways to rest on his folded arms, snuggling deeper into the warm weave of the blanket. Outside, Stars Hollow moved at its tranquil, almost lazy pace. For them, for the golden, red and rosy citizens of this tiny town life hadn't changed and still went on in its proper proportions.

But for him? Try as he might, Jess couldn't put his finger on the crushing sense of loneliness and depression he felt. He _knew_ Luke would win: Luke always did. Though Jess would never admit it to another living being, he had always held an illogical sense of hero worship for his Uncle Luke. The sensation had faded as he'd grown older but deep down, right at his roots it still remained. No, Luke would win but there was something else. Something so deeply hidden that Jess didn't know what it was but it made everything black, it made everything ache and turned even the simplest of tasks into insurmountable problems that he would never be able to overcome. It didn't make _sense_ – this feeling didn't make sense, the world didn't make sense and Jess liked things – no, _needed_ things – to make sense.

Feeling lost, confused and angry at his own incomprehension, Jess succumbed to a seldom released emotion. Ensuring his face was tucked into his arms and facing the window, Jess allowed a silent trail of tears to escape down his cheeks.

* * *

Jess had been sitting at the window for nearly two hours since returning from the hospital. During that time, Luke had unpacked Jess' things and caught up on essential business matters for diner but was content to allow Caesar and his recently hired extra help to run the diner's shifts. He'd almost called Lorelai, desperate to share his latest concerns over his nephew and their legal case.

Again, he stared at the letter in his hand, dated only two days ago. Jess didn't know about it yet, just as he didn't know about the CPS investigation. Luke had held back from mentioning that little fact. He knew he needed to be honest with his nephew, he knew that secrets, however well intentioned, had caused problems between them before but seeing how frail and fragile Jess was right then, Luke just couldn't add to it. For now, Jess was dealing with the custody issue: the other one, Luke was hoping would be cleared up more easily.

His thoughts drifted to the ugly bruise across the boy's arm, now thankfully almost faded and his stomach churned to the point where the older man felt nauseous. It _was_ him. No matter how many times he tried to explain it away, tried to put it down to the fall in the bar, Luke could deny it no longer. That _had_ been him. He'd hurt his nephew: something he'd sworn never to do. But he'd done it – left his mark and if CPS found out about it? Hell, maybe that was the real reason he greedily kept the news from Jess – what if the kid agreed with them? The boy would find out eventually. Thus far any inquiries into his health and home-life, Jess had put down to the custody arrangements but now that he was out of the hospital and obviously up for more involved questioning, that illusion wouldn't last for long.

Once more, Luke's finger's hovered over the speed-dial button for Lorelai. She'd want to know Jess was back, Luke reasoned. Heck, Jess would probably want to see her. Rory was still at school but Luke wasn't even sure Jess would be up for a visit from the lovely Miss Gilmore– not when his defences were down. It wouldn't be fair to either kid.

But Luke held off. Instead he chose to re-read the letter: the one that informed him of Franklin Mariano's official request for time alone with Jess, the one that made it legal and how damaging it would appear in a judge's eyes for Luke to cause a fuss. Luke briefly considered that; would putting Franklin's head through a garbage disposal count as _causing a fuss_? It was something to ponder in the long winter evenings.

A noise from the window caught Luke's attention. He looked up from the couch where he sat, surrounded by papers to where Jess still huddled in his chair. He thought he'd heard the boy sigh or perhaps inhale sharply. But if he was going to say something or move or give a reaction of any kind, Jess didn't and after a moment longer, watching in anticipation Luke shook his head sadly and turned back to his dilemma. One way or another, things were about to change.

* * *

OK. I'm now going to make a back-up of this before I post it! Once bitten and all that…

I really hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'm going to try and update more regularly.

Thanks again for reading x


	15. Chapter 15

Fire and Ice – Chapter 15

Standard disclaimer applies just in case someone who gives a damn is actually reading this.

Hope you enjoy. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to either leave me a review or send me a pm. I really appreciate all of them.

* * *

The sun hung low and russet over the sky by the time Luke had stacked and straightened his pile of papers and stowed them, safely back into the filing cabinet – away from prying eyes. Wearily he groaned and rotated his stiff neck, wincing at the clicks and pops and the sudden sharp, painful tug of the muscles stretched across his back and shoulders. Documents of any kind but particularly legal ones, made his vision swim and his eyes ache.

He rubbed at them with chilled fingers. The onset of evening had caused the room's temperature to plummet, the central heating not yet giving out enough warmth to compensate. He'd need to look at that, Luke knew. It actually felt a relief to be able to attend to a problem as insignificant as a plumbing issue, again. The handyman had almost forgotten what it felt like to _fix_ a problem.

Luke's thoughts suddenly swung back round to Jess. He'd not heard so much as a rustle coming from the boy's direction in…well, since he had lost himself in his sea of letters and petitions. That had to have been at least…he glanced down at his wristwatch and swore, softly. That had been over three hours ago. Damn, just where had the time gone? If it hadn't been for the slowly moving hands encased under the scratched surface of his watch, Luke wouldn't have believed it.

He looked up from his watch and over to the window. Jess still sat there, unmoving. He sat so still and so quiet, eyes blanking the town that for a ridiculous moment, the man stared in earnest to see the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket, enshrouding him. Luke mentally chastised his stupidity the moment he'd done it but he took nothing for granted now. Too many times he'd relaxed his guard and both he and his nephew had paid the price.

Carefully, aware that Jess seemed particularly uneasy tonight, Luke stood and crossed the short distance to his nephew's temporary retreat. If the boy heard him coming, he didn't acknowledge his uncle and something down in Luke's gut instincts began to tingle with concern. He was almost beginning to crave the flippant remarks of a smart-mouthed teenager. Silent Jess was unnerving and Luke didn't appreciate feeling nervous about his own nephew.

"Jess?" Luke took a step closer to the boy's side and almost drew Jess to him when he caught sight of the neutral expression but the dull and haunted eyes. Damn it! He just didn't know what to say to Jess to get the kid to snap out of it. If it didn't get better soon, if Jess didn't come out of it… The pocket that held the therapist's card suddenly seemed more noticeable, like the sharp edges of the card were sticking painfully into him. But he was jumping ahead of himself. The prolonged hospital stay had obviously disconcerted his nephew. The kid needed time to readjust, acclimatise.

"Jess?" he tried again. After a few seconds, finally, Jess blinked and he almost looked surprised to see Stars Hollow outside the window. A moment or too more, movements still unusually sluggish, he inclined his head towards his uncle. The blanket slipped at the movement and Luke smoothly snagged the edge of it and pulled it back over his nephew's jutting frame.

"It's time to take your pills," the older man announced, gently. When Jess didn't respond, eyes just off from fixing on Luke, he pressed on. "It's the blue ones. At least I think it's the blue ones. I don't think it'll hurt you if it isn't. I've got it written down, you know, so…I can check." Luke ended with a nervous half laugh. The need to fill the silence was getting urgent for him. Luke had forgotten how monosyllabic his nephew was when he first arrived in town and how he had struggled to forge even a simple conversation. He'd almost been taking Jess' more open communication for granted. Now, it seemed, they were back to square one.

Jess looked back down to his lap. Keeping up the pretence of eye-contact was proving too much for him. Luke placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Okay, Jess?" He was relieved when the boy gave a short nod. Quickly, Luke moved to the kitchen where a neat row of medicine bottles were placed. He unscrewed the lids, for a moment battling with the child-safety devices, before he counted out two tiny pills. There was a glass resting upside down by the sink and Luke snagged it, filled it with water and returned to his nephew's side.

Silently, Luke held out the glass and pills. "Take them both," he instructed, "and then it's time to call it a night. You look beat." It was with a sense of relief and concern that he watched Jess mutely comply. Taking the glass back from his nephew, Luke smiled, approvingly. "Ten minutes," he informed the boy before returning to the kitchen to wash and stack the glass.

When Luke returned to Jess' side, ten minutes later he paused. Jess sat with his head resting against the cool window-pane, breath reassuringly misting the glass. "Time's up," Luke announced. He was getting used to Jess' delayed responses. "Jess? Bedtime." The boy's hunched figure seemed to rise and then fall for a moment but still he said nothing.

Curious, Luke peered around to where Jess had his face buried against the glass. Then he sighed and shook his head in exasperation, tinged with fond amusement. Ever so carefully, Luke leant down, secured the boy beneath his knees and back, then scooped him up, cradled against his broad chest. He felt mild alarm at the lack of weight on his body. One of the first things on the agenda was to build some weight back up on the boy before he disappeared entirely. Strict meal-times were going to have to be enforced, whether he liked it or not.

For just a second, Luke's brain flashed to life with recounted conversations with the nutritionists at the hospital, who batted around phrases such as _softly, softly_ and _in the due course of time_. Luke wasn't buying it. _Softly, softly_ would only, he was well aware, work so well with Jess until a sledgehammer and bulldozer were required.

Gently, ever so gently, Luke deposited his nephew on the bed and pulled the covers snugly up to his chin. In testament to Jess' exhaustion, he didn't stir once.

* * *

It was the smell of frying bacon and waffles that gently roused Jess from his sleep the next morning. Bleary-eyed, he swung his heavy legs over the edge of his bed, blinking as his brain suddenly realised there was a discrepancy between the locations it remembered being in. The floor sent chills through the soles of his feet and Jess automatically winced then kicked around on the floor until his feet connected with the feeling of soft, warm cotton beneath them. Jess leaned down to wrestle the socks over his feet. In a ridiculous way, even accomplishing such a simple task felt satisfying. The hospital and his dazed return had made him feel so…helpless - as though he couldn't manage to do a single thing for himself.

Jess could hear Luke in the kitchen, spatula scraping softly on the bottom of the pan. The boy smiled, a small gesture but the first of its kind in nearly three days. Hearing his uncle's every day bustling provided a sense of comfort, security. Not that he'd be secure for long. One wrong decision by some guy in a court who didn't even know him and he'd never have this security again. Suddenly, Jess' chest began to ache for minutiae of actions he was going to miss. The smile sapped from his face like mist from a mirror.

"Morning, Jess!" Luke's cheerful greeting snapped him back to the present where, he realised, he was still sat on his bed hunched over the last sock. Hastily, Jess straightened and rose to his feet. He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away the sleep dust. With a shuffling gait, Jess stumbled towards the kitchen – or what passed for a kitchen where a distinct lack of partitioning walls prevailed.

"Huh." Jess returned the greeting in the best way he knew how. When he got to the table, two plates and sets of cutlery were already laid out. Two small red pills sat in a small saucer, next to a glass of water. Jess assumed that was his place setting, then. He heard Luke turn the stove off and his stomach lurched. He sincerely hoped there was something else on the breakfast menu besides bacon and waffles. Just as he thought that, however, he saw Luke open the fridge to retrieve a bowl of fruit and slide a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. He might be able to manage a slice of toast, Jess mused.

He sunk down into his chair and immediately rested his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on the table. He was forced to move them a moment later, however, when Luke leaned across him to take his plate. "Toast?" his uncle asked. Reluctantly, Jess nodded. Might as well get away with the easier option, he thought.

"How are you feeling, this morning?" Luke asked as he slid the plate back under his nephew's nose, seating himself opposite. Jess glanced down at his plate and pushed down the rise of bile. His fingers toyed with the crust while his shoulders rose in a shrug.

"Okay," he said, quietly. Luke narrowed his eyes, lines beginning to crease on his brow as he assessed his nephew's answer. Jess glanced over at him, blinking back the unsettling sensation he always felt whenever he saw his uncle without his trademark baseball cap, such as he would frequently at either end of the day. It was somehow like a comforting smile that was missing.

"You need to eat it, not tear it up," Luke remarked, pointedly. Jess sighed but obligingly picked up a shred and put it in his mouth, chewing tastelessly. Luke nodded, approvingly and returned to the stove to serve himself up some breakfast.

"Jess," Luke suddenly blurted out, still standing at the stove, plate in hand. "I have to tell you something." Mildly, surprised, Jess simply looked over at him, his toast hovering in the air, above his plate. Luke took a deep breath. "I've been thinking all night about how…" he waved his hand in circles, emphatically in the air, " how to bring the subject up and I _had_ thought about a better way than this but now that I've started I just have to keep going because…". He trailed off for a moment, putting his plate back on the kitchen counter. Jess still stared at him, curiosity warring with dread. Finally, Luke let out a heavy sigh and slid down onto his chair. "Because I don't know if I have the nerve to start this conversation again," he admitted.

Jess still said nothing making it less of a conversation and more of a monologue. He pushed his plate away, his fingers nervously intertwining. He didn't like it when Luke nervously rambled. You never knew where you were going to end up but Jess felt like he'd travelled far enough in the last few days.

"I got a letter from Franklin's lawyers a few days ago," Luke explained, leaning towards him, hands resting on the table. At the sound of his grandfather's name, Jess stiffened. He'd know the topic was going to come up sooner rather than later but he'd rather hoped he would have figured out his own feelings on the matter before that happened.

"What now?" the teenager asked, eyes not meeting the older man's.

"He's requested visits, officially. Now I can say no," Luke assured the boy, quickly. "If you don't want to, I can say no. He doesn't have any rights yet." Luke watched his nephew, carefully waiting for his reaction. Maybe it wouldn't even bother the kid as much as it was bothering him? Jess shifted uneasily in his chair. He wasn't sure how he should feel. It was obviously upsetting Luke but Jess? He kind of knew it was coming, if his grandfather was applying for custody and it wasn't as though Jess had hated the time alone he had spent with the old man before. Would it be so terrible to spend a couple of afternoons a week hanging out with him now?

But then Jess remembered everything else: he'd turned Franklin down, he'd _said_ no and still the old guy had gone behind his back – had even gone to his _mother_ to get support! Jess didn't understand what possible reasons anyone could have for wanting him that badly, much less a perfect stranger. But apparently he did and he was taking Jess' life apart like a jigsaw puzzle, starting with the border pieces leaving him without form or boundary.

Internally, Luke struggled with his warring emotions: this would be an apt moment to mention the investigation – he may as well face it, there would never be a _good_ moment. He hadn't yet received any more visits from the men in suits but the older man knew, deep down, that the inevitable could not be delayed for long. His lawyers could be dealing with issues, Luke supposed but they were usually very quick to keep him abreast of all the latest developments. Not that it surprised him in any way: the amount they charged for sending one letter would be half a day's takings for him.

But one thing at a time, Luke told himself. Jess was only just back from the hospital and he was still catching up, slowly, with events of the last week. Let them both deal with the visitations and the court orders today and he would reveal the investigation tomorrow. Yes, he told himself, watching Jess' silent contemplation across the table from him: tomorrow would be fine.

"So what do you think?" Luke prompted. Jess shredded the bread into smaller and smaller fragments on his plate, fingers now coated in crumbs and making Luke itch to have him wipe them on a cloth before he touched any of the furniture. But his jam hands complex was entirely inappropriate right then, Luke reminded himself, firmly.

Eventually, Jess shrugged – a one-shouldered shrug that made his loose t-shirt slip down one side. "S'okay", he mumbled, eyes darting up and down from the table, to his uncle and then back again. "I don't mind – not really, you know?" Jess clarified, hastily, seeing the disappointment flash across the older man's face. Luke swallowed his panic and forced a smile onto his otherwise rigid face. If the gesture looked as out of place as it felt, he must look unnervingly strange to the hesitant boy sitting opposite.

"Jess, I'm sorry," Luke suddenly blurted out. Jess let the shards of toast drop to his plate. His eyebrows raised.

"About what?" he asked, confusion battling with the encroaching sensation of apathy that seemed to have taken over since his release from hospital, draining the life-force out of him. He _wanted_ to care about what his uncle was saying – he _wanted_ to listen: he really did! But even as he struggled to fix his eyes on Luke's weathered, guilt-ridden face Jess could already feel the overwhelming tug back towards his inner retreat.

Luke looked as though he might scream at any moment – his incredulity that his nephew wouldn't know what he had done that was so terrible – that Jess hadn't been secretly dwelling on his uncle's shameful crime all these past days both saddened and angered the older man.

"About what?" he repeated, riddled with disbelief, consciously aware of the tone of his voice, never once wanting to confuse his anger at Jess' life and his own frayed temper with anger for his nephew.

"About hurting you, Jess!" Immediately, the teenager rolled his eyes, shoulders tensing.

"Luke," he began, irritably but the man cut him off.

"No Jess. I bruised your arm - badly! I _saw_ the marks. People think it happened in the bar but it didn't – _did it_?" He shot Jess a pointed look.

Jess threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Jesus! What does it matter? No, it didn't happen in the bar but it _doesn't matter_. You can't even see them any more. You have to stop obsessing about this – it's pissing me off!"

"How can you be so calm about this?" Luke demanded, leaning forwards in his chair. "Doesn't it bother you?" Jess' helpless baffled expression made him cringe.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," he shrugged.

"What?! Why?" Luke resisted the urge to shake him again.

"Because," Jess offered, as though that should be explanation enough. "It always does…sooner or later."

"Not from me!" Luke insisted, angrily. "Jess you shouldn't have to _expect_ this from every adult you come across. You just…" he trailed off, chest too constricted to talk, blood bubbling ferociously through his veins.

"So my arm got a little bruised? No biggie. Doesn't make you a bad person." Luke swallowed hard as he looked at his nephew, desperate to envelope him in a hug.

"It does to me," he finally managed, quietly and the intensity in his voice coupled with his earnest expression made Jess take notice. "I'm not like the others Jess and I promise you it won't happen again. It doesn't mean much to you but it means a hell of a lot to me. I've been screwing up a lot in the last few weeks Jess but I promise you, I'm going to do better. Okay?"

And for a moment, just a moment, Jess _longed_ to tell him: tell him about the wire hangers, the broken glass bottles, the socket wrenches – everything that Luke could magically make better just by listening to him in that patient, earnest way that he was right then. But he stopped himself. Nothing would make that better, nothing would wipe out his childhood. Nothing would have made his uncle stay, for all those times in New York when he had just driven away.

The raw vulnerability behind Jess' eyes was too much for Luke. In an instant, he had shoved his chair back and moved around the table to his nephew's side. He had the boy wrapped tightly in his arms, the dark, tousled head resting awkwardly against the side of his neck, before the teenager could react. Jess barely reacted at first, his arms flinching as if to pull away but either he decided against it or the apathy took hold of him again. But as Luke pulled him closer and rubbed a comforting hand across his back, Jess found his head resting more comfortably in the crook of his uncle's neck and his thin arms coming up to encircle the man's broad chest.

"Do you forgive me, Jess?" Luke whispered. From beneath his chin, he could feel Jess' head and shoulders shake as he quietly chucked.

"If it means that much to you: yes, I forgive you, even though you're making a fuss over nothing. Happy now?" Luke didn't answer him but instead smoothed some of the hair away from his forehead and kissed him gently on the head. And Jess suppressed a contented sigh and let some of the taut muscles across his neck relax. Presently, Luke released him and gently pushed him back to arm's length.

"Eat you breakfast," he announced. "Then take your pills." He watched as Jess picked up the toast and began to eat. Luke took a deep breath. "So, uh. Do you want to meet your grandfather?"

Jess shrugged as he took a drink of water. "If he wants to, I suppose I should. It doesn't matter. When does he want to meet." Luke coughed, nervously.

"He's wanted to see you for a couple of days," Luke admitted. "But since you were still in the hospital I kept putting them off – saying you were too sick, you know? I told them to wait till you were home and now, I guess…"

"I'm home," Jess supplied for him. Then he fixed Luke with a determined look. "Might as well get it over with. I'll see him today. I'm sure he'll be hanging around – he's like that." Then Jess fell silent, the need to retreat back into his own space, becoming over-powering. Seeing his grandfather: the prospect was…confusing. He couldn't say that he was looking forward to it but there were a few things he wanted to say to him! In fact, a meeting with that damned old man might be just what he needed.

"You sure?"

Firmly, Jess nodded. "Set it up."

For a second, he thought Luke would protest but after a moment, the older man stood from his chair and patted his shoulder. "Half an hour, you don't leave the town and I'll be meeting you when you're done." Jess instinctively knew those conditions weren't negotiable so he didn't bother arguing even if he _had_ felt the need.

* * *

If Jess had somehow imagined that Franklin Mariano would have changed in just the few short weeks since they had last seen each other, then he would have been mistaken. It didn't seem fair, it didn't seem right: they had all changed – _all_ them: Luke, him…even Lorelai in a way. They were older, less secure…yet closer. But the one person who seemed so utterly unaffected was the one person who had caused it.

Franklin looked as un-weathered, as unflappable and as timeless as he had when the whole debacle began. When Jess had walked in to one of the few coffee places in Stars Hollow that _wasn't_ Luke's, Franklin was waiting for him at one of the tables, two drinks on the chequered tablecloth – he'd assumed what Jess would want and, Jess was annoyed to see, had assumed correctly. A leather document folder sat on the floor, leant up against the table.

His grandfather had obviously been going through something in it before he arrived because the corner of a document was still poking out of the flap as if hastily stowed away. Jess didn't want to know what it was: no doubt something to do with custody case and the notion made Jess' skin crawl.

"Jess," Franklin announced, smiling, He indicated the seat opposite him. "Take a seat." And so Jess sat.

"Why are you screwing with our lives?"

Franklin blinked and smiled in mild surprise. "You don't waste any time on pleasantries." Jess smirked, the expression twisting his face and narrowing his eyes.

"Thought that was why you liked me." He didn't touch his drink. It sat there, alone on the table as a silent testament to his protest. It was a childish protest, Jess knew but somehow, the notion of screaming and shouting and waving fists in the air just seemed…pointless, a waste of time and effort and wholly unappealing to him. Besides, was it his imagination or did his grandfather actually look sad? A moment of regret?

The old man cradled his coffee cup. "I'm truly sorry it's come to this, Jess," he said.

"I _said_ no!" Jess shot back, anger clouding his dark features. Franklin looked at him calmly.

"And I wished you had chosen differently. I know you don't understand this, Jess but I'm doing this for both of us _and_ for your mother. Please trust me, it's for the best. You're going to be very happy with me – I'll give you a good life." Jess all but snorted with laughter, his fingers drumming angrily on the table in a violent, tribal beat.

"My life was doing fine _before_ you came along! You just waltz in here and the moment you show up in town, all hell breaks loose! I mean, why the hell should I trust _you_? You bring nothing but trouble."

Now it was the old man's turn to laugh. "Funny," he remarked though not unkindly. "But from what I hear, that's exactly what folks around here said about you when you first arrived." He paused and watched Jess' affronted expression lose just a little of its gusto. "Apparently," the old man continued, "most of them still do." Jess' jaw tightened. "You and I aren't really so different, kid." Franklin said quietly, eyes never leaving Jess.

For a moment, Jess allowed his thoughts to wander. The irony of fighting to stay in a town whose residents hated the sight of him was not lost on the young man. He would never be trusted, Jess realised. He would never _not_ be watched out of the corner of someone's beady little eye. So maybe Franklin was right? Maybe the two of them were just like each other?

"That's why I want to stay with Luke," Jess finally answered, his voice tight with emotion. "I'm sorry things didn't work out with us," he continued. "But you have to let it go now. Please." For a moment, Franklin nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then he reached into his leather folder and withdrew a familiar envelope and pushed it across the table towards Jess.

Jess eyed the envelope which he knew contained the open ticket as though it might bite. "Please," Franklin said. "Take it just in case. You never know what might happen." Numbly, unsure of himself, Jess took the envelope with shaky fingers and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he scraped his chair back sharply and stood.

"I'm going now," he announced, his voice holding a slight tremor. At this, Franklin did appear surprised.

"You've only just arrived."

"I'm going," Jess repeated and turned sharply on his heel and all but ran for the door and the street outside where he instinctively knew Luke would be waiting. Sure enough, the teenager nearly collided with the bulky form of his uncle.

"Jess?" Luke asked, concerned. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and tried to lean down and look at him carefully but Jess just pulled away with an: "I'm fine." On Luke's doubtful expression, Jess pushed on, cursing his transparent emotions. "I just want to go home," he muttered, already trying to move away.

Hesitantly, Luke nodded. "Okay, whatever you want." It wasn't like Luke was objected to it: Jess had given it his best shot and that was all that was required of them – at least for the time being.

"Luke?" Jess asked suddenly. Luke stared in surprise when Jess suddenly shoved a crumpled envelope into his hand. He raised his eyebrows in a question, but Jess wasn't very obliging. Instead he said: "Can you give this back to him, please?" He didn't wait for a response but just turned and walked away a few paces, clearly waiting for Luke but putting distance between himself and the coffee shop. Luke desperately wanted to ask what it was, to pry deeper and find out the precise cause for Jess' rather distracted behaviour. But the older man knew this wasn't the time. So he nodded, a short but strong gesture – the 'leave it with me' nod that always used to assure a much younger nephew that whatever problem he was facing would be swiftly and succinctly dealt with by his uncle.

Checking one last time to see if Jess was waiting for him, Luke turned and entered the coffee shop. Franklin was still seated at the table. The damned man was still going to finish his drink as if nothing had happened, as if his grandson hadn't just stormed out from a meeting with him, as if there wasn't a care in the world that affected him. It made Luke suddenly want to hurl a thousand accusations at him, interspersed with a few choice expletives, to boot. It made him want to slip his fingers round the man's scrawny neck and just start squeezing. But neither of these options would be wise, he realistically knew.

Franklin was appraising him, silently from where he sat, his expression both amused and wary. He wouldn't speak, Luke realised – they had noting to say to each other: well, nothing that could be said in public. The older man rested his chin on one hand and simply leaned back in his chair, elbow resting on the table as though examining a curiosity, blown in by the wind. Luke, for his part, was not going to rise to the bait: it would take more than a withering look from a conniving old man to goad him in to a confrontation, he decided.

So, without a word, Luke took two steps towards the table, stooped down and shoved the envelope under the loosened lid of the leather wallet. The contents of the envelope would be crumpled and torn but he didn't care. Whatever Jess didn't want, wasn't worth keeping. Luke liked to imagine it was something of sentimental value to the old man that Jess simply couldn't stomach. That the meeting had not gone well was still filling Luke with a guilty, ridiculous sense of giddy warmth.

If Franklin had any reaction to the envelope Jess was obviously returning, he made no outward show of it, merely took another sip of his coffee. He was a difficult man to read. Luke stood, content to let his actions speak for him. He paused, just for a moment however, when his eyes caught sight of part of the header on a document, tucked inside the case. It had looked, on a cursory glance, to be a passport application. Was Franklin going somewhere? God, Luke could only hope and pray that he was.

* * *

Okay, that's it for now. Lovely snowy weather has given me some extra days at home and allowed me to concentrate on writing. I've figured out (finally!) where this story is going so I hope it won't be too hard to follow this chapter up. Please let me know your thoughts, as you've generously been doing so far.


	16. Chapter 16

Fire and Ice – Chapter 16

Standard Disclaimer applies

Thank you SO much to everyone who has been so patient and those who have nagged me for the next chapter. I'm very sorry for how long it has been between updates but I do hope there are still some people who will give this a read. I also apologise for the way this chapter reads like a bad soap opera but I needed it to get over the hump of writer's block! Also you may find some English spellings so please be aware.

* * *

Jess had never been known for his over-abundance of patience. For instance, he never fared well with plants – or perhaps it should be said plants never fared well with _him_. That wasn't to say the young man took any dark satisfaction from watching something beautiful whither and die.

As a reader, as a loner, as a child deprived of a kindred spirit, Jess took pleasure from the little constants in life that would compliment his sanctuary, without intruding on it. A friend at the window was a safer presence than a friend at the door who could interfere, pry too deeply, disappoint.

However, with the best of intentions, even the effort of regular watering would become too much for him. Conversely, Jess couldn't stand the tedium of something like a plant that required little attention because it usually underwent little change, too. Jess didn't see the point of a living thing that didn't change. That was partly the reason why he didn't see the point of himself. From eight to twelve to seventeen, Jess had grown taller, his voice deeper and his hair longer but the core of him – the essence that crippled him – remained unchanged, spiralling onwards to the inevitable future where he would become a taller, broader, worthless man.

But Jess' lack of patience in this instance was wearing him down. He hated playing the waiting game. Since his meeting with Franklin, Jess had all but worn a hole in the carpet of the apartment with his pacing. It was starting to drive Luke, whose nerves were already nicely shredded, crazy. It had been a week since the teenager had handed back his grandfather's plane tickets. The very idea that Franklin was implying Jess would be flying out to join him had infuriated the young man. But it had also unnerved him. There had been something…preordained in the manner in which Franklin had given him the ticket: something which smacked of an inevitability that try as he might, Jess would never be able to withstand.

On an even playing field, in a sane world, Jess wasn't sure if he would be panicking this much. But then, in a sane world, this situation wouldn't have arisen in the first place and Jess couldn't help but feel as though the cards weren't stacked in their favour. What Franklin lacked in morals, he made up for in cold, hard cash. Who knew where his boundaries lay?

All of this was making Jess…testy. His emotions were riding close to his chest, synopsises spiking random bursts of fire across his nerve endings. He couldn't settle to anything. He would pace from the couch, to his bed, to the window. He didn't venture out much, except for school and to run small, local errands for Luke and his uncle began to wonder if Jess was reluctant to run the risk of encountering his grandfather on his travels. In the apartment, perhaps Jess felt safe? Protected by his uncle's presence? Luke hoped so. It would make the fight all the more worth while if he could have some kind of proof that he was good for him.

Jess just could not _settle_ on anything. He flipped from TV channel to channel, then turned off the television and stalked from the set to the fridge, picked out a soda, gulped down half of it in one go then threw the rest away. The near constant clang of metal against plastic as can met trash can jarred the senses. Finally, sensing impending insanity if he stayed in the apartment any longer, Jess grabbed his jacket, checked his keys were in his pocket and then stalked out of the door.

He jogged down the steps, a little too fast, hands on the walls to stop himself tumbling down head over heels. He needed the momentum to keep going, Jess realised. If he was actually going to venture outside of his own accord, to break his self-imposed isolation, the faster he was going, the less easy it would be to break to a halt and turn back round. Pushing the partitioning curtain aside, Jess didn't pause as he wove in between the tables and chairs on the diner floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Jess could spot the regular customers raise curious eyebrows when they saw him emerge. A few even looked as though they were going to offer a greeting or try to catch his attention.

Jess wasn't going to chance it. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, briefly scanning the room for his uncle. If Luke wasn't visible then that was just tough. He would return before nightfall, so as not to worry the man, but they would both survive without the exchange of pointless farewells. But aside from Caesar serving a plate of burgers to a couple of teenagers, Jess couldn't spot Luke. Must be in the kitchen.

He pushed down the niggling sense of panic that seeped inside him. Luke was _safe_ – he shouted and frowned and grumbled, sure – but he was safe and comforting and constant and Jess would have secretly liked to have laid eyes on his uncle just once, before venturing out to where it was neither safe nor comforting and to where every_thing _and every_one_ seemed to be changing on him. But Jess himself, remained strangely numb and frozen.

The dark-haired youth took a determined step towards the door just as it swung open, causing the bell above it to ring. Jess almost groaned out loud when he saw who walked in: talk about a trial by fire. He felt his features start to harden, even as he recoiled a little inside as Dean stood towering over him, looking awkward and uncertain. Both boys paused. They hadn't exchange any curt conversations outside of school since the incident all those months back. The conversations at school were not what one would call…well, a conversation actually. A nod perhaps or a narrowing of the eyes. Maybe even a quiet 'Hey' when one or the other of them had recently made a half-hearted promise to Rory to _try to get along_.

But now, face to face, they both appeared lost. To Dean, although his eyes were disengaged and cold, Jess looked different somehow – smaller, less secure. It made him feel uncomfortable about the prospect of trading barbs. It didn't make Dean dislike Jess any less but Dean's sense of honour was too finely tuned to attack an opponent who was off their game. And of course, who knew what an unbalanced Jess Mariano was capable of? Perhaps there was another reason why it was wisest not to provoke the more diminutive boy?

Jess, for his part, was simply staring him down. If he felt inhibited in any way, shape or form by the giant looming over him, he wasn't about to show it. Abruptly, Dean cleared his throat. "So," he began, forcing some semblance of sincerity and weight into his voice, "haven't seen you around." Then he stopped and amended his statement. "That is, _Rory_ hasn't seen you around." Jess nodded, silently, eyes darting round for Luke and then to the door behind Dean. Maybe turning back round and making a run for the apartment wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all?

Dean gave a tight smile. "We've been talking. Rory and I." he clarified, as if it _needed_ clarification. Jess couldn't help but be amused. Was this Dean trying to be friendly or marking his territory? Jess hadn't spoken to Rory in over a week. She was busy – with the paper, with her mother and apparently, with Dean. In front of him, Dean cleared his throat again. "So…are you doing okay?"

"Doing just fine," Jess affirmed. Dean's awkwardness made it easier for him to slip on his cover of ego and bravado. Dean nodded, mumbling a quiet, "Good."

"You're in my way." Jess nodded to the door behind the other boy. Gratefully, Dean rolled his eyes, glad to be back on familiar terms.

"Excuse me for trying to be nice," he snarked, stepping aside from the door. Jess almost sighed with relief.

"You're excused," he said as he threw open the door and all but lunged for the outside.

As soon as he was outside, the cold air hit him like a blast but it was refreshing and cleansing. Jess greedily gulped in the crisp, clean air blocking out the second glances he was getting from passers-by. All at once, the young man realised how much he had been missing the world around him: the noise of the cars, the chattering of the townsfolk, even the hum of nature. That was odd – Jess never missed the world but for just that split second as he felt the wind rip through him and sting his eyes, it seemed as if the world had missed him back.

A smile began to tug at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and allowed his feet to start walking – side-stepping pedestrians and circumventing cars almost without thinking. Jess felt the blood begin to pump more quickly around his body as his heart finally had a reason to work a little harder. Something inside was waking up slowly, fragmented pieces stirring and reforming. Jess shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, running his fingers over the ridged edges of his keys as he did so. With an absurd piece of logic, the keys represented the diner and the diner represented his uncle and the safety net he needed to be able to take off without uncertainty.

At the corner, just before he would round a bend and lose sight of the little diner, Jess paused and threw a last look over his shoulder. He stopped a moment longer: two men in plain, smart suits were entering the diner. Jess didn't know them which in itself, wasn't strange. But he looked a little longer anyway. Squinting, peering through the glass windows Jess could see them approach Caesar and ask him something. The chef then pointed to the back where, presumably, Luke was still working. Jess took a step forward as something twisted in his stomach. The two men nodded their thanks and made for the back and then Jess could see them no longer. Not without going back.

The decision hovered in his fingers and in his wriggling toes for a moment. What did they want with his uncle? Were they even there for Luke or had the days of self-imposed incarceration started making him paranoid? And if they did want Luke, did he _really_ want to know? The implications hung heavily like a cloud, over him.

Jess didn't go back. He turned and rounded the corner, pushing aside the worry that was preying at the corner of his mind as the diner disappeared from sight. Today was _his_ day. Today was his day for forgetting, for getting back to what passed for normal and _nothing_ was going to spoil that.

_Nothing_, however, found him under a tall, leafless oak tree in the park.

* * *

Luke had spent the last five minutes listening in stunned silence. All of the shots, all of the snide remarks and hot-headed accusations that he wanted to hurl at the two men in front of him just stuck in his throat. His mouth was dry, his mind was reeling and he couldn't understand how he hadn't been more prepared for the moment to arrive.

The men, the officers as he now understood, kept talking, explaining procedures, advising him of necessary next steps, but all Luke could focus on was the date: February 22nd. Luke had no idea what he would have been doing on February 22nd last year or the year before that or indeed, any year. The day was inconsequential, small – nothing. But no longer. In less than a week, for better of for worse, Luke knew that there wouldn't be a year, in all the years to come when he wouldn't remember February 22nd as one of the most important days of his life.

* * *

"You're looking tired."

When Jess heard the voice, sharp-edged and strangely neutral, his heart almost froze. The park was empty, bare trees lining the soggy grass. Any children who may have been tempted to kick a soccer ball around had been put off by the mud and piles of wet leaves that made them skid and slip. But one man was standing, leaning against the trunk of the oak. Jess hadn't seen him when he entered the park but he saw him now.

Quickly, Jess slipped his mask back in place, held his head high and strode over towards his grandfather. The old man smiled at him and not without what could have been genuine affection. It puzzled Jess who wanted so badly to hate him yet found his conniving words alluringly easy to replay in his mind and his no-nonsense mannerisms to put the young man, annoyingly, at his ease. In short, Jess couldn't quite hate him the way his conscience told him he should; but he certainly didn't like him either.

The teenager ignored his grandfather's unsolicited remarks on his health. "What are you doing here?" He pulled up in front of Franklin and stopped, heart thudding. Jess hoped Franklin couldn't hear it the way he could.

"I'm waiting for you."

Jess snorted. "Haven't we done this before?" The old man smiled and this time it didn't look quite so pleasant. Jess glanced around him – no-one was near by. Not that he needed anyone of course. Not against one elderly man. But still, this wasn't _any_ old man.

"I've been watching the diner," Franklin continued as if this was the most natural thing for a sane person to have spent their time doing. But Franklin wasn't so concerned with the pretence of sanity now and that scared Jess a little.

"So you're officially a stalker now," Jess replied, outwardly unconcerned. "Congratulations – do you get a bumper sticker with that?"

"I've been waiting for you to reach a decision," his grandfather continued, as if Jess hadn't spoken. "And so far I feel I've been quite patient." Jess wanted to take a step back, he really did. But that would be weakness and the both of them understood, in their lives, you didn't show weakness. To _anyone_. Luke had made him break that rule. Franklin forced him to remember it. The boy forced himself not to lick his suddenly dry lips.

"But a man in my position can only wait for so long. In time, you will find out why." He reached a black leather-gloved hand into the inside pocket of his thick overcoat. Jess immediately tensed but all that Franklin withdrew were two large white envelopes. They were sealed but unmarked. Jess eyed them with mounting trepidation.

"What's that supposed to be then?" he shot back with as much sarcasm as he could.

"These," Franklin announced, "are your choices. As you can see, you have two of them."

Jess nodded. "Keeping it simple, I see? Probably wise for someone like me."

Franklin laughed, without humour. "If you were stupid, Jess I wouldn't be bothering with you. Now quit playing around and pay attention because this is important." And suddenly Franklin was talking business, making his deal, playing his cards. Jess wanted to run again. But if he ran now, something told him there was nowhere safe left to run _to_. Whatever was in those envelopes, the only thing Jess knew for certain was that he _couldn't_ choose. He never chose, never made decisions. The things that were important, the ones that mattered, people made those decisions for him whether he liked them or not. But now? If it mattered that much, if it was _that_ important…how was _he_ supposed to make the right decision? How was he to know what was best?

But Franklin was still speaking, drawing his attention back to stare at the two apparently harmless envelopes in the calculating old man's hand. "Right now," he heard the words echoing around his head as they were spoken, "as we speak, your uncle is being visited by two men." He saw Jess' eyes darken and the youth turn to run back to his uncle's aid. Images of Luke, lying bruised and bloodied on the diner floor seared into his brain. But a forestalling hand raised by his grandfather halted the movement.

"He is in no danger, I assure you." Heart beating fast and bile rising in his throat, Jess rounded on the elder Mariano.

"Just leave us the _hell_ alone!" he spat, anger and desperation making the order come out more like the plea of a terrified child than a defensive teenager. Franklin sighed with the irritation of a parent whose child would not stop asking _why_.

He took one envelope in his left hand and kept the other in his right, then stretched out his hands to his grandson. "As I've already told you," he explained, "you are the one who has forced this action by your inability to make the right choices in life." Jess had never actually wanted to hit an old man before but he wanted to now.

"The men visiting your uncle are police officers. They aren't in uniform so the town won't be aware but that won't last for long." He could see the confusion knot the boy's brows together, mixing with the anger and fear on his youthful face. On seeing this, Franklin's face softened a little even as his eyes eagerly lit up. "Ah," he remarked, "I see Luke has been less than honest with you." He considered a moment. "Understandable, I suppose."

"I know all about your ridiculous custody issues!" Jess shot back, desperate to defend his uncle and all the trouble he had gone to for him. Tears were, however, threatening to form. Luke was the good part of him, the clear focus in his murky world even if Jess never let him see what he meant to him. For Franklin now to tarnish this image was almost too much – something else he was taking away from him.

"Then I'm assuming Luke has failed to tell you about the other legal proceedings I've set in motion? The ones from Child Welfare?" Jess' jaw dropped several inches.

"The _what_?" he sputtered, incredulously. It was impossible to remain detached and aloof now.

"The misfortunes that have troubled you since you've come to live with him," Franklin explained gently as though lending his kind understanding. Jess shook his head as his brain tried to wrap itself around these developments. "Your illness," Franklin continued. "Your troubles at school and of course, those bruises he left all over your arms." The old man tsked disapprovingly. "A shocking loss of self control."

Jess shook his head even more vehemently. "It was _nothing_!" he insisted, hotly. "None of it was his fault."

"I'm afraid that's not how a good lawyer will make it seem or how a _decent_ judge will rule it." Jess' eyes were bright and he quickly turned his head away. "You know son," his grandfather said, "I'd hate to see this ruin Luke's reputation in such a small, close-knit town. It can't be good for business, no matter what the outcome of the hearing, which, by the way begins in a week's time. We have a hearing scheduled in Family Court where the custody matter and all…_pertinent_ issues will be discussed." He shook his head, sadly, his silver hair blowing in the wind. "It does seem such a shame to put that man through all that trouble and raise all of those uncomfortable questions and accusations."

Jess could feel his blood boiling and his hands shaking. "It's not like you'd win!" he spat. Franklin raised a cool eyebrow.

"I have a lot of money and influence that says you'd be foolish to bet against me. And you're not foolish, are you lad?" Jess didn't reply. "Now," Franklin announced. "One of these envelopes contains a copy of the court papers that your uncle has been given. They've been drafted by my best lawyers and I've got papers from your mother's lawyers as well, just for your interest. I was amazed by how strong a case they could build for her, given what a drunk and a junkie she is."

"Shut up about my mother."

Franklin laughed. "It's a little late for sentimentality, Jess."

"Is there _ever_ a time for it, with you?!"

"In my other hand," his companion continued, holding up the envelope in question, "is a plane ticket. One-way. It has your name on it. Once we're back home I have people who can arrange permanent physical custody very quickly and very efficiently."

"But Luke has…"

"Luke has _no_ rights," Franklin insisted. "Not at this moment in time. Your own decision and your mother's backing are what's important. _Choose_, Jess. Choose to come with me now, to take this plane ticket and all that's in this other envelope will disappear. The court case, the hearing, all the mud your uncle's name would be dragged through: all gone." Franklin stared at him, intently. "You don't like it? When you're eighteen you can come back," he urged. "Just think about it for a moment."

Jess' head was whirling. He felt dizzy. He wanted to scream. Numbly, Jess moved to lean against the same broad trunk that Franklin had been using moments earlier. "Luke's going to fight it," he mumbled, more to himself than to his grandfather.

"Yes he will," the man agreed. "And it will ruin him: financially and socially." Jess looked up, sharply but the realisation was already dawning on him with a crushing, suffocating sensation.

"Now you can choose to stay with Luke, to stay in a town that hates you, in a school you're on the verge of dropping out from and with a girl who has a perfectly adequate boyfriend who she's never going to leave. You can continue to selfishly cling on to Luke like a life-preserver but I tell you now, it's going to bury him."

Jess arms wrapped themselves around his middle, his head bowed. He was breathing heavily as his emotions warred inside him. "Luke has given you so much, Jess," Franklin concluded. "And what have you ever given him back?" He paused for a moment but Jess wasn't able to respond, even if he wanted to. "Do this for him, Jess. Make the less _selfish_ choice."

The boy's hands and voice were shaking as he took the envelope, holding it loosely between two fingers as if it burned. "I hate you," he whispered, eyes wrought with anguish. Franklin patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

"You hate everyone, son. But that'll change in time." Furiously, Jess shrugged his hand away.

"I'm not your son!" he growled. Franklin merely shrugged, neutrally and began to walk away.

"You're not his, either." Then he turned and called over his shoulder. "Plane leaves tonight. I'll pick you up at six. Don't be late." Jess stood and watched him disappear, mind screaming at him that this was singularly the worst decision he had ever made. But was it too late to change it?

And as he walked, walked back through the park, across the square and back to the diner, Jess took in the town around him – the town he was leaving. It was the town that hated him but also, the town that was beginning to understand a little part of him. The town that was finding a small place for him to fit in to, whether he accepted that place or not. The town with the people he was actually going to give a second thought about when he was thousands of miles away. Hell! Even the buzz of annoying Taylor was starting to make him ache for its approaching absence.

Furiously, confusion, fear and anger colliding in his brain and heart and stomach, Jess blinked back tears. The last, the very last image he wanted to leave in Stars Hollow was the image of a broken, scared teenager running away. And over and over, his mind came back to Luke: ever patient, ever caring Luke who only ever tried to do right by him and who Jess had repeatedly kicked in the teeth for the older man's attempts at concern. But leaving now? Would Luke call that running away? Abandoning him? Throwing his efforts right back in his face? God! It made the young man feel physically sick thinking about it. He was trying to show his gratitude by saving his uncle, but would Luke find that the biggest insult of all?

Jess found himself by the gazebo across the town's square. He could see the diner across the street. In time, he would forget why it was so important to him. Why his memories of it were laced with feelings of security and comfort. In time, it would just become another roof, another bed. Jess willed himself to believe this even as his heart and lungs constricted. His feet picked up their pace again and Jess renewed his journey home.

Suddenly, a familiar figure crossed his path and Jess' stomach twisted when he saw Rory move to intercept him, standing in front of the gazebo with her arms shyly wrapped around her waist. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. "Hey!" she greeted, brightly. She was smiling, energetic. Jess' mind was reeling. He just couldn't do it – he couldn't make pretend, he couldn't play their game today. Not when he was leaving, not when this was probably the last time he would see her or his uncle or any of them. Not when his world was falling apart. Concern, at this point in time, would make him crack – fall apart. His poorly constructed lies would crumble under interrogation and Jess knew it well.

"Hey," he returned, distractedly. His voice came out colder than he had been expecting but, he realised, it suited his needs well. Rory noticed the mood.

"You okay?" she questioned, irritably hovering in his path. "You sound a little preoccupied." Jess almost snorted. _If only you knew_, he thought.

"I'm busy," he replied, curtly, willing her to go and, at the same time, willing her to make him change his mind, to make him stay. He shoved his hands in his pockets and refused to meet her inquisitive gaze. She looked at him, curiously.

"Doing what?"

"I'm leaving," Jess blurted out, instantly wishing he hadn't. Damn it, she wasn't going to let it go.

"Leaving?" Rory repeated, a little uncertainly. "Are you going to visit your mom?" Jess squared his shoulders.

"No. I'm leaving Stars Hollow – for good." The words sounded strange to him like parroting a phrase in a foreign language. She opened her mouth in confusion but Jess had no time for this at the moment. There were more pressing matters to attend to and the crystal blue eyes now looking in to his were making it painful to stay.

"But I don't understand!" Rory stammered, pain pinching her fine features. "What's wrong?"

Jess laughed, bitterly. "Nothing's wrong. Look, go find Dean and talk to him about it. I've got packing to do." He made a move to step around her but her sharp, incredulous voice stopped Jess in his tracks.

"You're leaving town because I've been talking to _Dean_ lately and not you? To my _boyfriend_!" Jess' eyes darkened and his face hardened.

"You know, Rory, as intriguing a person as you are it's not the be all and end all of my existence if you deign to have a conversation with me, or not." He could see her recoil in hurt but he couldn't bring himself to stop. "Go talk to Dean – God knows he could use some of your attention." And with that, Jess was off, feeling all the more like the despicable person his grandfather predicted he would turn in to.

* * *

His carryall lay half full on the crumpled sheets of his bed. Luke hadn't been downstairs when he had entered the diner. Jess didn't know where his uncle was: maybe meeting his lawyer? Maybe gone to see Lorelai or…_who knew_? In any event, it was better this way – better Luke wasn't there to question him, to stop him. Jess looked at the clock. Five fifteen. He didn't have long.

Not that it would take long to pack. His books – well, he couldn't carry all of them and Jess wasn't even sure if he still had the heart to keep reading. But that was a foolish notion. He could never be without his books and so into the bag, Jess stuffed a couple of his favourites. They would be his companions; his sanity. Again, his nerves faltered as he looked about the apartment. Was he really going to leave like this? Without a word to Luke? Without a goodbye? What kind of an ingrate did that? He wondered, bitterly. Was Luke simply supposed to come back to an empty room? Maybe a note? Sure – how noble that would be!

Jess sunk down heavily on the bed, beside his bag. His head fell down to rest in his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do?! Jess could feel the tears, hot and sharp, pricking at his eyes and he bunched his hair into his fists and tugged painfully at the roots. The pressure did little relieve his confusion. There was just too much weight on his shoulders, too much heaviness in his heart and it was dragging him down. He desperately needed his uncle to fix this but for once, it was _he_, Jess who needed to fix things for Luke. He owed the man that much.

It was better this way, Jess decided, wearily. Better to avoid the confrontation, the hurt look in the older man's eyes. Luke would get over it, Jess decided, firmly. He had to. The teenager pushed himself off the mattress and grabbed the last handful of clothes – a mix of jeans and t-shirts – and shoved them into the bag. He scanned the room. Only the books remained like relics in a graveyard. Jess had the phone Luke had given him for Christmas, in his pocket. He had felt guilty about taking it but decided that, once Luke had calmed down and hopefully forgiven him for leaving then he might be allowed to call and talk to him. Images of the cold click of the receiver and the resounding dial tone, echoing down the other end of the phone at him, stabbed at the boy's heart. But Luke's anger and hatred was a chance Jess would have to take.

There were only a few items to collect from the bathroom – toothbrush, hair gel and a few odds and ends. Once they were in the bag there would be no more reasons for him to remain. Franklin would be waiting and knowing the conniving old man as he did, Jess was sure he would be waiting early. _You can't do this_, the voice in his head told him, even as Jess walked into the bathroom and gathered up his belongings. The envelope lay next to his carryall, taunting him from the next room. He shut the voice out.

Returning to his bag, Jess tipped the last items into the opening and then pulled the drawstrings shut. He tested the weight. It was heavy, but manageable.

"Jess?" The deep, startled voice came from the open doorway. Jess' heart dropped and his voice caught in his throat at the sight of the alarmed, confused eyes staring at him with such open concern and honesty. "Are you going somewhere?"

And suddenly, Jess couldn't meet his uncle's gaze.

* * *

Right! I'm going to try to get the next chapter started now before I lose all momentum! Please review and let me know what you thought and thank you so much for getting to the end of the chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

Fire and Ice – Chapter 17

Standard Disclaimer applies

A/N – sorry for the long wait. What is it about the chaos of Christmas and the thousand-and-one things that desperately need doing that makes people think: _Yes, this is a good time to get back into writing_? Thank you to everybody who has reviewed or nagged or both since the last chapter. I really appreciate all of your comments as they propel me on towards the next chapter. _Just a warning – slightly bad language in this but pretty mild._

Now, I fear, I must duck behind the sofa as I may make a few of you angry with this chapter! I'm sorry….

* * *

"Jess?" One word: a question; an accusation; a plea.

The boy ducked his head, dark hair falling across his face. It looked lifeless, like the boy. Luke took one tentative step into the apartment, framed in the open doorway behind him. He watched Jess' mouth open once then close, lips pressed tightly together. The teenager's eyes were stormy with emotion – Luke could hardly bear to guess at the cause.

From under lowered lids, Luke could see dark, haunted eyes willing themselves not to look up, not to make contact with his own questioning ones. It didn't remind Luke so much of choppy waters but of poisoned wells. Something had changed in Jess in just the last hour: something…irreversible, something intangible. His nephew was turning – _had turned_ – a corner and Luke was running to catch up.

Still no response from his nephew. "Jess?" he repeated. "You going somewhere?" In front of him, he watched the teenager release a shaky breath as the kid's gaze automatically drew itself down to his packed bag, wordlessly screaming out its intent.

Jess couldn't look at Luke: not without his anger, not without sarcasm or defence. He couldn't do raw emotion; Jess couldn't handle honesty. Not from the one man whose feelings he feared the most. Liz…Jess knew she cared, somehow, in her own way. But over the years, alcohol, the occasional dip into narcotic abuse and a torrent of no-good boyfriends had succeeded in numbing her emotions, almost to the point where Jess wondered if she still knew how to access them.

But Luke – his emotions were sharp and clear. He loved unconditionally and he learned with fumbling, awkward steps to reach out to those he longed to save. But the gruff man with the open heart also felt every punch, keened with every stab to that same open heart. And now Jess was going to purposefully punch another hole in it.

"Jess?!" The panic in Luke's voice brought out his anger and his uncle's anger brought out the buffer Jess needed to respond.

"It's over, Luke." Jess hauled the bag over his shoulder and checked his watch. Five-thirty. Almost time.

"Over?" Luke blinked, uncomprehending. "What's over?"

Jess snorted. "Hazard a guess, why don't you?" His uncle narrowed his eyes, dangerously.

"You're running away?" he demanded. Luke still couldn't wrap his head around it.

"If I was six years old or a dog, maybe." The night beyond the window looked cold and inhospitable but it was inviting him out nonetheless and besides that, it was no more than he deserved. Though it was a little early yet, it was better to wait outside somewhere than stay for the inevitable confrontation. He jumped as the door slammed, rattling the ornaments on the little side table. Luke had moved beyond confused. Now he was angry.

"You don't know what you're doing, Jess! Now quit this nonsense and put that bag down, _now_!" Jess let it drop to his feet, more out instinct than anything else. Something about Luke's tone just brought it out in him. But it didn't quell the argument on his lips.

"Leave it alone, Luke! I'm _fixing_ _things_ – don't be an idiot for God's sake!"

"_Fixing things_?" Luke was incredulous. He planted his hands on his hips and then pointed, accusingly at Jess. "You have _no_ idea what you're doing! _I_ have no idea what you're doing! Just what in the hell happened to you in the last hour that's changed _everything_ we've been working for? You can't _possibly_ understand what's at stake here."

The temper flared in the teenager. "Oh why's that, Luke?" he demanded. "Because I'm _just a kid_?" His mockery seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Yes!" Jess flinched but anger mingled with fear and killed his retort.

"_Yes, you are_," Luke continued, unwilling to recant. "And it's _my_ job," he shouted, stabbing himself rather painfully in the chest, "to look after _you_! I make the decisions, mister – that's _my_ job."

"Then resign, already! Quit – _whatever_. Because I'm leaving and there's nothing you can do about it." He had to hold steady, Jess told himself. He _had_ to. Just walk out – walk out and don't stop. If he listened to Luke, if he allowed Luke's words to trickle through his weakened defences…

His uncle threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "I cannot believe we are having this conversation. Jess, this is crazy." He paused. Jess was fidgeting nervously and it tore at Luke's heart to see the boy's insecurities so painfully broadcast. "Do you _want_ to go, Jess?" He asked, more gently. "I mean…is this something that would make you…" Luke almost dreaded to voice the possibility, "…_happy_?"

Resolute, dark eyes met his. "No." Luke reeled back like a kick in the guts. "But we don't have a better choice." He glanced down at his watch again. "I'd better go," he muttered. Once more, Jess leaned down to grasp the twisted handle of the carryall and hefted it on to his shoulder. It was heavy and the strap twisted and dug painfully into his shoulder blade but he made no move to readjust it.

"That's _bull_!"

Jess shrugged one shoulder and zipped his jacket up to his chin, eyes wavering from the irate man before him. Luke's fury was emanating in waves, his broad shoulders taut and the veins in his neck, disturbingly visible. Unlike Jess, Luke's eyes held their target fast – hot accusation twinned with panic. There was nowhere to hide from his uncle's pain: it seared in to every familiar, previously comforting corner of their ramshackle little apartment.

Something inside Jess was crying, crumbling away as the young man realised this bitter, angry man was the last impression he would have of his benevolent uncle, of the man who had taught him what the word 'family' really meant. And Jess was the one who had broken him. To save him, the boy reminded himself. This is all for him. In time, with luck, Luke would come to understand.

Jess took a breath, praying it wouldn't tremor. "So you say." He took a step towards the doorway, the doorway Luke was currently obstructing. His heart skipped a beat and Jess could feel his lungs itching to trap his breath. Luke may have been a track runner in his time at school but to the diminutive Jess, his uncle's burly form was like a line of quarterbacks, an immovable statue of granite, barring his exit. He wanted to scream, to cry! Didn't he _know_? Didn't Luke realise that Jess would have given _anything_ to let his uncle stop him? To just give in and allow himself to bask in the protection that his guardian was offering? If only there was some way Jess could _accept_ it.

"Yes, I do _damn well say_!" Luke snarled. "I thought you had more fight in you than this. I thought you were one of the few members of this family who had inherited guts _and_ brains." He watched the boy take another uncertain step towards him, eyeing the door behind him. Jess' eyes were pleading with him to stop, but Luke wasn't willing to oblige.

"You're a quitter, Jess!"

At that Jess laughed – a hollow, resigned sound that echoed around the apartment, now suddenly seeming so empty. "And that comes as a surprise to you?" He shook his head in mock disapproval. "Really Uncle Luke, I took you for a sharper man than that." Luke held up a forestalling hand.

"Don't," he started, with less anger than Jess had been expecting. It made the teenager pause. "Don't start that," Luke explained. "Let's cut the sarcasm and the snide remarks – from both of us." The older man took a deep breath. "This conversation…". He wavered. "One way or another, this conversation is going to be important and I'll be damned if we spend it yelling words we don't mean at each other. The ones we _do_ mean are going to be hard enough! For God's sake, Jess. Let's at least make it _real_." Jess hesitated a moment before giving a slight nod.

"I will if you will," he muttered. Then he spoke. "I'm not quitting… I just…I need you to understand."

"I do understand, Jess!" Luke insisted keenly, taking a step towards the boy where he stood, enshrouded in fear. Immediately, mirroring the action if not the intent, Jess retreated a step, eyes widening in alarm.

With effort, Luke ignored the sting and pressed on. "I can imagine you got a visit the same time as I did." Jess glanced away, the fear from that particular meeting revisiting his features. Luke tried to quash the indignation, the hurt he felt that anyone should have managed to get to Jess behind his back – he should have been watching out for the boy, protecting him. If he'd managed to do that, then maybe Jess wouldn't be standing there before him, like the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Luke ran a quick hand across his eyes before continuing. "I can imagine only too well what that manipulative bastard has said to you and how he must have made you feel."

"Was he lying?"

The question, blunt as it was, caught Luke off-guard for a moment. "About the court case? About the charges against you?"

Luke's mouth opened just a few seconds too soon before the right words could come to him. That was all it took for Jess to give a bitter, knowing nod.

"Uh huh. You know, Luke, he may be a manipulative bastard but he doesn't try to kid me. Well," he amended slightly, "he's always holding something back. But don't think I don't know the _facts_. If I stay, it'll ruin you."

In front of him Luke was shaking his head, so resolutely he was in danger of getting whiplash. "Doesn't matter!" The older man insisted, firmly.

"Like _hell_ it doesn't!" Jess snapped, finally giving way to the urge to scream at something. Luke's surprise must have fleeted across his face for a moment because Jess took advantage of the gap in conversation to jump right in. He closed the gap between them until they were almost nose to nose, finger jammed in his uncle's chest.

"How am I supposed to _not care_, huh? Answer me that! You're the one who's been trying to raise me to give a damn! To think about somebody else besides myself! You had to be prepared for me to _listen to you_ one of these days. So how in the hell am I just supposed to _ignore everything, _huh – ignore everything falling down around you if I stay?!"

For a second, Luke appeared lost in the hot, angry tirade of his nephew, tears pricking the boy's eyes. He longed to reach out to hug the boy, but the pain and anger between them was creating an almost impenetrable barrier.

"Because," he answered, honestly, his own eyes bright with emotion, "everything's going to fall down around me if you _go_. At least my way, I get to keep you with me." Jess dropped his hand. It hung limply at his side, rubbing the material of his coat through his fingers. Tentatively, not wanting to alarm him, Luke brought his hands up to grasp Jess by his shoulders. "I will fight for you, Jess," he said in a low, steady voice, enunciating each word clearly so there could be no mistaking. "I don't care what it costs – you're worth it."

Jess bit his lip, hard. He tasted the metallic sting of blood pooling in his mouth and silently relished the distraction. His voice caught when he spoke: Jess couldn't help it any more.

"He's waiting for me." He kept his head down: he couldn't look – just _couldn't_. He heard Luke's breath hitch sharply. One hard hand on his shoulder moved to raise his chin. He _would_ look, Luke wouldn't let him hide. That was his uncle through and through. It was what Jess both loved and hated about him: Luke made him own up to his mistakes, face his decisions head on. Including this one.

"I can stop you." Luke's voice was like steel. "I can toss you over my shoulder, take you away from this door and lock you in this apartment until you see sense." He released his chin and Jess didn't look away. He laid his hand against the boy's face and grazed a thumb across his cheek. Jess pressed his lips together tightly. He leaned backwards ever so slightly signalling his intent to withdraw.

"But you won't. Because this is my decision. And you know he's right." Then Jess moved. He moved so quickly Luke had to take a step back in surprise. Jess all but darted towards the door, swinging it open in one fluid motion until it crashed into the wall outside. The plaster crumbled a little, a dusting of white powder on the wooden floor. He was out of the door and taking the steps two at a time when he heard the hard, rough voice behind him.

"Fine! Just walk away, Jess, but this isn't over! Like _hell_ it's over". And then pride and anger surged upwards in an instant and overtook the pain: the door slammed back shut. It shook the old stairs.

* * *

Through the half slatted blinds of the diner's windows, the bright beam of headlights from the waiting car sliced through the twilight. Blinded by the light, by watery eyes and by his own emotions, Jess stumbled through the diner, pushing past the seated patrons not noticing or caring that his carryall collided with people and crockery in his wake. He didn't stop until he had barged his way out of the diner's door and found himself seated in the passenger side of his grandfather's Caddy. He was breathing hard, eyes glued to the dashboard in front of him.

Idly, Franklin turned his cool gaze sideways as he shifted the car into gear. "How'd he take it?" The question could almost have been sympathetic but Jess could never hear it without the cold, hard sneer.

"Shut up," he muttered, furiously swiping at his eyes and hoping the motion could be received without comment. Franklin seemed to oblige him, on both counts: he'd got what he wanted – perhaps that was enough for the time being?

They pulled away and Jess refused to look in the mirrors. If he did, Jess wondered, would he see Luke there? Would his uncle be waving him back? Begging him to stop? Or would he simply stand and watch him with his arms folded across his chest and a stony expression of anger on his face? Or, more than likely, would Luke not come out at all? Jess didn't want to know.

"You got ID for the airport?" Franklin glanced over at the taciturn young man beside him, still hugging his carryall to his chest, empty eyes staring into nothing. The boy didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge him. Franklin knew the game and he almost smiled. Almost. "_Jess?_" The question was sharper this time. The boy was allowed his time to sulk…or grieve. Whatever. But his grandson belonged to him now and there was no time like the present for the boy to start getting used to that.

The old man was pleased, therefore to hear a quiet, choked reply: "Yeah."

Franklin cranked up the heating until it was blowing out of the grates full force. Jess hated to admit it, but the warmth was helping him to relax, just a fraction. He hadn't realised how badly his muscles were aching from the tension he was under. His head was pounding.

What about Luke? Jess suddenly wondered. He got terrible headaches when he was too stressed. Would he be suffering now? Had he called Lorelai? Jess hoped he had, even though he could imagine how the woman would quickly wipe the young man off her Christmas card list when she found out how badly he had betrayed her best friend. But Luke needed a friend – someone to rant to. Otherwise, he was liable to tear the apartment to shreds. Probably starting with the books Jess left behind.

"Driver's licence?" The question startled him and made him jump. Jess hesitated a moment before nodding. Franklin appeared satisfied.

"Uh huh – that'll do fine." The old man turned his focus back to the road. A string of tail lights ahead forced him to slow as they pulled on to the road that would ultimately, lead them to the airport and out of Stars Hollow. Jess glanced behind him at the junction sign as they drove past it. His hands burrowed through the opening in the bag, searching for the book that lay, tantalisingly close to the surface. But as his fingers grazed the creased paperback and gently stroked its worn surface Jess withdrew his hand, empty. He could read in a car with Luke – anything to drown out the man's inane babble. But what Jess came to realise was that each had been as comforting as the other, in their own way. He couldn't read with Franklin because he couldn't relax – he couldn't switch him out.

An impression of just how unbearable his life would become if he couldn't lose himself again in his books, flashed through Jess' mind. As if picking up on his thoughts, Franklin broke the silence in the car:

"I know this must seem like a great inconvenience, Jess." He ignored the quiet snort of disbelief, coming from his companion. "But I promise you've made the right decision. As soon as we land, I'll have the proceedings against your uncle dropped." He looked to Jess for some kind of a response – for any kind of reaction other than the bitterness he sensed, consuming them both. But none was forthcoming.

For a moment, Jess thought, he actually sensed…_disappointment_ coming from his grandfather. The old man sighed and suddenly seemed, under the yellow street lamps, to be that much older and frailer. His silver mane of hair appeared dulled and his skin, leathery as though it had been pulled over the top of his skull, like a balaclava. For just a second, Jess didn't know this man.

"I promise you'll be happy with me, Jess," Franklin pressed on. "You'll have a good life." Ahead of them, on the right, a large wooden painted sign announced that they were now leaving Stars Hollow. Jess remembered the sign on the opposite side of the road – the one welcoming him to their quaint little town all those months back as he had rode in, sarcastic, disappointed and flippant on that bus, expecting nothing more than a half-hearted attempt at charity and a swift ticket out of there once his welcome had been worn out. Tears pricked at his eyes. None of his fears had come true, but, as Fate would have it, here was leaving anyway.

He could feel his grandfather's eyes on the back of his head. "For God's sake, Jess! If you're that sentimental about this old town then you can come back and visit it when you're eighteen." Franklin shook his head, disapprovingly, muttering under his breath. But something in the pit of Jess' stomach was making him doubt that was true.

* * *

Luke was sat on the floor. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually sat on the floor. The sensation made him revisit the same feeling of helplessness that childhood had. His back leant up against the wall, in between the filing cabinet and a chest of drawers. The baseball cap lay somewhere, discarded on the floor beside him. He hadn't even noticed when it had fallen. Luke was worn out. He was worn out from the screaming and the shouting; he was worn out from the explosion of anger. And above all, he was ashamed.

When Jess walked - no, _ran_ – out of the door, the pride inside Luke had made him snap. Screw him! Screw the ungrateful kid! After all he'd done for him – after all the blood, sweat and tears he'd shed for him! If Jess wanted to throw it all back in his face, then _fine_. What had he expected? Luke had slammed the door, let out a few choice phrases and probably called his nephew a name or two that he now, whole-heartedly regretted.

Propelled by grief and anger, Luke had proceeded to kick, thump and throw just about every piece of furniture or moveable object he could lay his hands on. The action felt satisfying, even as it stabbed him with guilt. The place was a tip – a testament to his instability. Hell! Maybe Social Services had the right idea about him after all?

But now, looking around, all he felt was alone. He'd let Jess go. God help him, he'd _let him go_. Just walk out, walk away. He should have stopped him – should have ignored the incredulous stares of the diners, hefted the boy over his shoulder and carried him kicking and screaming back into the apartment. But he didn't and now Jess was probably on a plane somewhere, flying away from him, away from their family. And all for what?

The ringing of the phone jarred his senses and snapped him rudely away from useless self-flagellation. Perhaps it was Jess? Calling for help? But Luke dismissed that idea as quickly as it came. He idly hoped the caller would hang up but who ever it was, they were persistent. He looked for the phone, probably under some object on the floor. Pulling himself to his knees and fumbling around on the floor he patted the overturned papers and cushions with his hands until both the ringing and the vibrations of the handset, led him to it.

Convinced the caller would ring off just as he had it positioned to his ear, Luke clicked the connect button and waited. "Luke? Hello?" He let out a weary breath when he realised who it was.

"Lorelai. I'm here." Something in the dejected tone of his voice put the young woman on alert.

"Everything okay?" He could hear her shuffling through some papers on the other end of the phone. "Aw crap," she muttered.

Instinct took over him. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Just spilt my coffee but the couch has seen better days anyway." Luke didn't answer, just kept the phone hooked under his chin as his brain tried to think of a way of telling his friend that he had let the boy, she too was becoming protective of, slip into the hands of a slimeball like Franklin Mariano. How could he tell the ever optimistic Lorelai Gilmore that he had failed?

"Listen, Luke. The reason I'm calling is I've just come back from my parents' and before you yell at me that this is none of their business, just hear me out."

"Lorelai.."

"No, seriously, Luke – let me explain. I would never go to them for something that wasn't, end of the world, vitally important but I know what Jess means to you."

"Lorelai, I…"

"And, hey, the kid's growing on me, too. And Rory already adores him but we all knew that. So my dad has put me in touch with this greater lawyer who sort of owes the family a favour and I know you already have a lawyer but this guy is _really good_, Luke and I can get him dirt cheap."

"_Lorelai_." And suddenly, without realising it, Luke was off the floor and scrambling for his truck keys.

"Sorry, Luke," she apologised, sheepishly. "Did you need to get a word in edgeways?" She was grinning down the phone at him, he could tell. And he was beginning to smile back. Just what the hell had taken over him for a minute there, Luke didn't know but all it took was one voice of reason to snap him back round. He was starting to feel bi-polar.

"It sounds great, Lorelai but I can't talk now." He grabbed his jacket and switched off the overhead light. If he left now, and kept his foot down, there was a chance he'd still make it. He only prayed he wasn't too late.

Luke could hear the surprise in his friend's voice. "You going somewhere?"

"I gotta get to the airport." He cut her off before she could ask anything else. "I'll explain everything later but right now I have to go get him." And with that, Luke hung up the phone and tossed it onto the couch. He didn't even remember locking the apartment, shouted a quick message to Caesar as he ran out of the diner and then was in his truck, speeding towards the airport.

* * *

_Final call for United flight 930 now boarding all rows…_

"Jess," Franklin cut in over the announcement. "We have to move now." Jess had been staring at his sneakers for the past half hour, slumped in a chair in the departure lounge. He would shoot a dark look at any passer by who glanced in his direction. He'd watched the flight board in its various stages, filling up with business men, lone flyers and the odd family fussing around each other to find boarding passes and squabble over seating arrangements.

Jess' mind had been elsewhere. Absently, he glanced behind him again at the long walkway that led to airport's main terminal. As if he expected to see him now…charging down the carpet, flannel shirt flapping madly around him? Jess gave a low, bitter laugh in spite of himself. Who was he kidding? Franklin had told him to check his bag, claiming it would be too big to fit in the overheads. He was probably right but, Jess remembered a little too late, he had shoved his phone into it beforehand. Still, he'd just have to retrieve it when they landed. _Landed._ That was still taking some getting used to. When he landed it would be in a new home, in a new state with a new family – none of them probably wanted him there.

"Jess!" A hand at his elbow drew him roughly to his feet. Jess glanced up irritably. He wouldn't have guessed the old man still retained such physical strength but apparently he did.

Franklin was pulling him along towards the ticket desk where the attendant was waiting for them, obviously wanting to get the plane locked up and set for take off. "You don't have to drag me, damn it!" Jess muttered, yanking his arm away. Franklin let him go.

"I do if you insist on dawdling behind," he remarked, casually. Franklin handed over their boarding passes. As he did so, he saw his grandson once more cast a wistful glance over his shoulder. Franklin laid a gentle hand on the boy's arm.

"I'm sorry, Jess but he's not coming." The teenager recoiled visibly and jerked away from the old man's touch, lip curling into a viscous snarl. Nonetheless, Franklin pressed his point home. "I mean, could you blame him, son? After what you did?"

The truth stung so badly that Jess simply couldn't answer. His heart crushed in his throat. He managed to weakly shake his head once as the stubs of their passes were handed back to his grandfather and Jess was whisked through the waiting set of doors.

* * *

He'd swung the truck in badly across two bays and then pelted down to the terminal. Luke arrived out of breath, shoulders heaving. He ran towards the main information desk, thankful there wasn't a line of people that he was going to have to rudely push in front of. The lady behind the counter looked up at him apprehensively. She tapped something in to her keyboard.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"I need you to contact a passenger for me." She nodded, absently.

"Are you meeting them?" He shook his head.

"No, but I've got to speak to him before he flies." The lady bit back a grimace. She hated these kinds of emergencies.

"I can put a call out for him but if he's already in the departure lounge, he won't hear it." However, she could read the man's anxiety.

"Please," Luke pleaded. "It's my nephew. I've _got_ to talk to him. It's an emergency."

She sighed. "Flight number?" Luke stopped and closed his eyes in dismay.

"I don't know," he admitted. He could see the woman about to give in. "But he's flying to Nebraska, Knox County – around… _nowish_." He cast her an imploring look and the lady relented with a sigh. She tapped some information into the computer and Luke watched her with a surge of hope.

"What's his name?"

"Jess – Jess Mariano." She typed it in and began scrolling down her screen.

"I assume you've tried his cell phone?" she questioned, while searching the information in front of her. She'd be damned if she was going through all of this fuss when there was a far simpler solution. But the man in front of her nodded.

"On the way over, but it's turned off. Is that going to take long?" he asked, anxiously. His nerve endings were tingling. She gave him a half-lidded glare.

"It'll take as long as it takes, sir." Then she abruptly looked back at the screen. "United?" she asked him. "930 to Nebraska?" Luke could have punched the air in joy.

"That's got to be it! Is he listed?" The lady nodded.

"I'll ring through to the departure desk but the final boarding has already been called." She picked up the phone and dialled a short, internal number. Luke's heart thudded noisily in his chest. What would he say to the boy? How would he convince him? How was going to get past Franklin Mariano? Heck – that didn't matter. The words would come to him, provided Jess was willing to listen to them.

"Sir?" He snapped his attention back around to the lady behind the desk. She was replacing the phone in its cradle. Her expression was sympathetic. "I'm sorry, sir." And she was. "The aircraft doors have been sealed and the pilot's starting to taxi." She paused a moment before adding. "All passengers are on board." In front of her, she saw the man deflate, his shoulders sag and the colour drain from his face. He looked at her as if he couldn't believe what she'd just told him.

"I'm sorry, sir," she repeated. "Will there be anything else?"

Numbly, Luke shook his head. All around him the terminal bustled with life. Outside on the runways, planes were taking off and landing and one of them, Luke realised with a sinking heart, was carrying his nephew away.

* * *

That's it for now. Please forgive any technical inaccuracies. I'm not sure if the airport is even allowed to give out information about passengers or where in Nebraska they were flying to. Also, I'm aware the boys were a little all over the place in this chapter but they were a little hot-headed and prone to rash decisions in the show as well. I promise I do have a plan and I would really like to finish this story soon so I will plough on as quickly as I can Of course, your feedback will help make that process even sweeter and that much speedier.

Thank you for carrying on with this story and have a Merry Christmas, everyone!


	18. Chapter 18

Fire and Ice – chapter 18

Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, never will be.

Hi all. Thank you all so much for your reviews and carefully worded threats: it's amazing how touching threats of actual bodily harm can be :-) But here is the next chapter and I do hope you enjoy it.

PS – I apologise to anyone who actually lives in Bloomfield, Nebraska – my research is limited solely to Wikipedia and will therefore be riddled with inaccuracies, I'm sure.

* * *

The plane had landed in Sioux without any drama. Its tires skidded a couple of times on the little runway and just like that, Jess was home. His _new_ home. The airport was smaller than the ones he'd seen on television but, Franklin had informed him, was larger than many of the more local airports in the county.

Franklin owned a house – more of a mansion by the looks of the pictures and his grandfather's animated descriptions – in a small city called Bloomfield. By all accounts, Jess imagined it to be the only sizeable building of its kind for miles in any direction. He wished he'd taken the time to Google it so he could have prepared himself better for what was about to come but, the last minute nature of his departure had decisively ruled out that option.

Once again, the thought of his departure, now no longer a thought but a reality, made the teenager feel ill. He pictured Luke, slapping plates of food down in front of customers at the diner, taking out his bad temper on his patrons before going back upstairs to an empty apartment. Should he call him? Let him know he had landed safely? Would Luke even care? Luke was an early starter: he'd be getting an early night to be up for the deliveries the next morning. Somehow, it didn't seem right to Jess that his uncle's routine got to carry on as normal. It didn't seem fair.

"Jess." His head snapped up at the sound. Franklin was pointing at the bags travelling round and round the baggage-reclaim point: Jess' backpack was fast approaching. Quickly, he stepped forward and snatched it off the conveyer belt. It was a little piece from home and holding it again gave Jess a sliver of comfort as they sidled their way through milling passengers, out through the terminal and then to the waiting doors that led to the parking lot.

"Our driver can take that," Franklin remarked as the man in question emerged from beside a shining limousine. He was a tall blonde-haired man with hard, dulled eyes that seemed fixed to a point just past them. He was dressed smartly in a suit but thankfully not as a chauffeur. His black leather driving gloves made Jess feel uneasy, though he didn't know why. Franklin nodded towards the man and he immediately approached, hands reaching for the backpack. Immediately Jess shook his head, pulling the bag away. "I got it," he muttered. "It's fine."

The driver stopped and glanced back questioningly to Franklin. "You don't have to ask _him_!" Jess snapped. "It's my bag, for God's sake and I want to carry it." Still the man waited, wordlessly. Waiting for his master to speak, Jess realised with a feeling of equal disgust and dismay.

From beside him he heard Franklin sigh, heavily. "For pity's sake Jess, stop being such a drama queen. It's his _job_. Just give him the bag."

_I've given you everything already_, Jess wanted to snap back, his dark eyes narrowing – _**I **__keep this._

"Sir?" the driver asked Jess in a neutrally polite voice. He held his hand out expectantly. The simple gesture infuriated the young man. Jess slung his bag over his shoulder and clung tightly to the strap. "You waiting for a tip?" he demanded, seeing the driver hold his ground, still waiting. "Just drive the damned car before I do _that_ too."

"Jess…" he heard the sharp reprimand from his grandfather as Franklin hove into view. But Jess spun to face him.

"No!" he spat. "Screw you and your monkey in a suit." The old man stood perfectly still, face to face with him, his expression a mixture of disappointment and appraisal. Jess laughed, bitterly.

"I tried to warn you," the teenager sneered, the anger rippling inside of him. "You wanted me?" He flung his arms wide, ignoring the curious stares of strangers. "Well now you've got me, in all my glory. So deal with it!" No sooner had his outburst finished then he shoved past a silent Franklin and opened the back door of the waiting limo, letting himself slide in. The door slammed shut and the sound echoed around the parking lot.

For just a moment, Franklin watched him go. He let out a deep breath, his lips pressed tightly together. The twinkling eyes seemed to be calculating something. Then he turned to his driver. "You may proceed, Mr. Havers." Then he added. "I believe I will ride up front today." Havers nodded and moved to open his door for him, shutting it with a soft click when Franklin was inside. As Havers walked round to the driver's side, Franklin looked over his shoulder to where Jess still fumed, pressed up as tight against the door as he could, his bag clutched to him. A book was open in his hands, and Jess had all but buried his nose in it though whether he was actually reading it, Franklin doubted.

"I understand your unsettling behaviour Jess but I cannot tolerate it." Jess did not look up. "I'm prepared to be lenient in the first instance so you may apologise at any time until we finish our journey and then I'll consider the matter done." He glanced to his side as the driver's door opened and Havers got in. Franklin looked back once more to Jess. The boy didn't look up and he didn't speak. Franklin turned back round, pursing his lips. They had a two and a half hour drive ahead of them – there was time yet.

* * *

When he hadn't answered his phone, she had been concerned. After a couple of hours, when he still wasn't picking up, concern drifted into worry. She got in her car and drove over there. He didn't answer the door: so she waited.

The truck pulled slowly into its usual spot. Even the vehicle sounded defeated. The engine rumbled for a few more seconds before it shut down, followed a moment later by the lights. But the door did not open. For just a moment, she wondered whether one or two doors would open but deep down, she already knew.

Luke sat in the cab, in the dark. Her heart broke in her chest and her throat tightened. He just sat there, in the dark, alone. Getting out of her car, she tugged her coat closer around her, the chill permeating through the fabric. She walked to his door and gently pulled it open. Weary, broken eyes met hers.

"He's gone."

Lorelai nodded. "I know," she acknowledged, hesitantly. Luke almost seemed to have forgotten his frenetic phone call with her, only hours earlier. She didn't feel right reminding him. Instead she offered, "Rory ran in to him." Her daughter was currently more cross than upset as the reality of Jess' outburst clearly hadn't dawned on her. But as soon as she had related her bizarre encounter to her mother, her conversation with Luke had made more sense. Rory had then left to go to Dean's leaving her mother alone with her understanding and dreading the ensuing conversation she would have to have with her daughter.

Luke seemed to register his friend's explanation for a moment before giving a small, muted nod. He still had the safety belt strapped across his chest and waist.

"I failed." She shook her head, vehemently, brown curls bobbing around her earnest features.

"None of that!" she commanded. She leaned into the cab and unclipped his belt. As it snapped back, slithering from around his waist and shoulder, Luke glanced at it in puzzlement. "Come on," she coaxed. "You can't stay out here all night – it's freezing." As if seeming to wake up a little, Luke swung his legs out of the truck and stepped down heavily onto the sidewalk. "Let's go inside and get some coffee," Lorelai continued, slipping an arm around his waist, relieved when he didn't shrug her away.

Almost in a daze, Luke let them in and led them up into the apartment, Lorelai's arm, holding him as securely as the safety belt had. Her eyes widened a little as she took in the strewn books and the scattered pillows but aside from her silent acknowledgment, she made no response. Instead, she reluctantly broke away from his warmth and contact, pulling her arm back and making a detour for the kitchen where the coffee pot lay, waiting.

Assuming Luke had collapsed on the couch, she was then very surprised to feel a large hand cover hers as it gripped the handle of the pot. She glanced up at him but before the question could leave her lips, he cut in, quietly, the hint of a smile in his eyes. "No matter what the situation," he explained, "it just seems wrong for _you_ to be making _me_ coffee. It's easier on my brain and the…general equilibrium of the universe if we switch places." Glad to see a light flicker back in his eyes, she smiled and happily relinquished her hold on the pot, moving instead to find mugs and spoons.

For a few moments, they simply stood in the kitchen, listening to the water begin to boil. He stood with his back to her, staring at the pot. Jess' bed lay at a strange angle, the mattress over-turned in the middle of the room. Seeing it, made her gut twist. Perhaps she should offer to take it away? Perhaps it was too soon.

She heard a sigh from behind her and turned to look at Luke: his shoulder muscles tightened. She could see the tension vibrating through his flannel shirt. "Franklin made him a deal," he supplied, quietly. She listened in the same way. "Go with him and he'd make all this…" he looked away for a moment, "_trouble,_ go away." She stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. But Luke turned away from her touch. She bit her lip and pulled back her hand. The water boiled; he turned it off, eyes concentrated on the simple, routine task. "Stupid kid," he whispered.

"He was being noble, Luke," Lorelai insisted gently. "He _wanted_ to do this – he loves you."

"Yeah," Luke responded, his voice wavering and strained. "Stupid, damned kid."

With a single step, Lorelai slid round his side until she could see his face. Immediately, Luke looked away but she could see the tremors of his facial muscles. Wordlessly, the young woman took his hand in hers and leant her head against his shoulder. The coffee forgotten, Luke turned to her, gathered his friend into his arms and held her, as she wrapped her lithe, strong arms securely around him, hoping there was still someone who could offer the same comfort to the absent teenager who had stolen his way into her affections.

* * *

For a short while, the road upon which the car had turned on to, once they had finally run out of highway, had been a roughly surfaced farm road, lined either side with deep ditches and alternate divisions of ploughed land and wet, grassy fields where dozens of horses grazed. Franklin had pointed out a breeding ranch over in the distance but Jess simply blanked him.

A sheriff's car passed them on the opposite side of the road and, for a moment slowed as if the driver were taking a good long look at them, before continuing on. As their car trundled past farm after farm, the actual buildings becoming further and further apart, Jess began to wonder how deep into oblivion they were heading.

But then, suddenly, the driver made a sharp right and turned onto what Jess had first taken for a well-paved road, only to realise a few moments later that it was in fact a private driveway. Even then, the thought that this could have been his grandfather's did not occur to him. But as they paused at the electric gates and Havers reached through the window to tap the passcode into the control panel, Jess' eyes widened in surprise. _This was it?_ This was his new home?

The gates smoothly opened and the car drove through them. Tall trees lined the front lawn, a grand multi-storied mansion rising behind them, veranda gleaming white in the sun. As nonchalant as he tried to be, Jess was sure there was the briefest of moments when his mouth hung open in astonishment. He was still staring at the imposing building set before him while the car swung round in a wide arc to park neatly in front of the house. Suddenly, the metallic clang of the closing gates rang loudly across the courtyard. He jumped at the sound, cursing himself as he noted Franklin's lips twist into a smile at his startled reaction.

Eyes glowering, Jess shoved his book back into his bag and yanked the handle down on his door and all but kicked it open. He'd be damned if he was sticking around to be led round like an obedient dog. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stalked, eyes fixed on the front door, past the waiting staff who watched him apprehensively, uncertain as to how best to see to the needs of their newest resident who appeared to want nothing to do with them.

On the front porch sat an old, metal swing-seat. It used to be white but time and use had worn away most the paint, leaving behind a green-tinged metal frame. The cushions looked new, however and invitingly comfortable. Jess suddenly recalled the picture Franklin had shown him, what now seem liked eons ago, of the two young women sitting in that very spot.

The reality of being immersed in that same, alien world suddenly hit him, sharply. This wasn't just a snap shot of bench on a porch any more – now he had the whole picture. And those weren't just strangers in a picture, he realised with a jolt: they were family – _his_ family whether any of them wanted it or not. Would they be here now, Jess wondered? Would they be pleased to see him or disgusted at the trash their father had dragged home this time? What would they even be to him, Jess mused, besides strangers and enemies? Cousins? And their mother, his aunt? His half-aunt? Jess wasn't entirely sure how it worked. He'd never had much cause to work out family trees before.

Behind him, Jess heard the quiet click of the car door and lowered voices as his grandfather spoke to the staff. Immediately, they dispersed to their various duties, collecting the old man's luggage and rushing to prepare the midday meal. "Jess?" His grandfather approached behind him, solid footsteps clipping on the gleaming driveway. The teenager's shoulders stiffened in response. "How about the grand tour? I can show you where to drop your bag off and then you can look around without it dragging you down."

Jess hesitated and Franklin seemed content to wait for a moment. The old man moved to stand within his line of sight but otherwise, hung back, allowing his grandson to take in his new surroundings and acclimatise to the new request. Apparently, Franklin showed more sensitivity to his new situation than Jess had given him credit for – and Jess credited him with very little.

He wanted to remain angry, to stay uncooperative and bitter and resentful but really, he considered, who was he kidding and who was he likely to hurt by that? Only himself. If he was going to live there, then the first thing he would need to do would be to get his bearings. Jess looked around the outside of the house. Although there seemed to be miles of nothing on all four sides of the property, Jess thought he could detect a garden at the back of the property; somewhere where, even in harsher weather, it might be worth braving if it gave him a place of solitude in which to hide himself and read his books.

Even now, they called to him through the canvass. It was silly, Jess knew and he didn't normally allow himself sentiment, but those books, especially the few he had chosen to take with him were the closet thing he had ever had to companions – to friends who had stayed with him through all the crap he had been through in New York – all the times he had hidden in his room until the shouting and screaming had died down, transporting himself from the madness to their inky worlds.

Their familiar words used to comfort him as he braved the cold in Washington Park on those evenings when he dared not return home and, as he had left New York and travelled to Stars Hollow, they had been his little, familiar constant that travelled with him. As ridiculous as it was, the books were everything good that he managed to garnish from his life: Luke, the few happy memories of a young and hopeful Liz, the times he and Rory had run their fingers across the same pages, deep in discussion, even the frustrating quaintness of Stars Hollow…they were all trapped between the ink and paper of the pages.

The sooner he appeased his grandfather and explored his new surroundings, the sooner he could open up his world again and immerse himself in its safety. Without saying a word, Jess nodded to his grandfather in silent acquiescence as his fingers dug into his pocket, pulled out a packet of cigarettes and tapped one into his waiting fingers. Franklin said nothing; merely smiled, offered him a light which, Jess cautiously accepted and then held out a guiding hand towards the front door.

"If you're ready," he announced. "Let's start by leaving your bag in your room, then I'll show you round the house and leave you to explore the grounds in peace." They started towards the steps leading up to the double front doors when the sound of a rumbling car engine outside the gates made his grandfather stop and then, quite uncharacteristically, curl his top lip upwards in a barely contained snarl. It surprised Jess, who instinctively took a step backwards, forgetting his cigarette for a moment.

They both turned to the car and Jess saw for the first time what his grandfather must have known straight away. The sheriff's car was parked outside the closed gates but its driver, no longer content to peer at them through windows was now leaning against the side of his car, arms folded, staring right at them or rather, Jess perceived, at _him_.

The boy shifted, nervously under the hard look of the local law enforcement and took a nervous drag on his cigarette. What the hell? He hadn't been in town _five minutes_ and already the local sheriff had him sussed out. This was going to be worse than Stars Hollow! At least Taylor waited until he actually _stole_ something before deciding he was the devil incarnate.

"Wait here," Franklin snapped, darkly. He also, apparently, had no time for the local police but given the nature of his business, Jess supposed he had good reason to be on guard. While not wanting to obey his grandfather outright, Jess had no desire to get up close and personal with the sheriff, either. Better the devil you knew. He watched as Franklin plastered a smile on his face and ambled over to the gates, stopping short of actually opening them. Instead he called out in a deceptively pleasant voice:

"What can I do you for, Sheriff Conibear?"

The sheriff removed his dark glasses, revealing a pair of hard, suspicious brown eyes. "Franklin," he nodded to the man, not surprising Jess that they were apparently on a first names basis, at least as far as Sheriff Conibear was concerned. "You just back in town?" Franklin nodded.

"Flew in today. It's been a long trip so, I'd invite you in for a catch-up drink but I really ought to be unpacking, settling in…" He waved a hand in the air as he trailed off, suggestively.

Conibear ignored him and shot a dark look towards Jess. "Who's this?" he asked. Jess felt his stomach twist a little. Cops in New York often gave him the once over – he had that hoodlum vibe going for him, after all but those beat cops had been mostly show and noise and, more or less left him alone. But Jess was getting the distinct impression that here, a grudge with law officials could get more…_personal_. Sensing a more…intense feeling of hostility than usual, Jess stubbed out his cigarette though he still wasn't why.

"That's my grandson," Franklin informed the man, tightly. "His name's Jess." That last bit of information was added reluctantly. Conibear nodded and Jess could see him making a mental note. Probably already opened a file on him, he suspected. He held his breath and waited to see if anything more was going to come of it but after a few moments of silence in which Jess sensed more scrutiny and something wavering on the tip of Sheriff Conibear's tongue the man seemed to be suddenly satisfied for the time being.

He turned his gaze back to his grandfather and inclined his head in a curt gesture of civility. "I'll be seeing you around, Franklin," he informed the old man. Franklin gave a short wave. Then Conibear climbed back into his vehicle and started the engine, moving slowly away from the house.

Franklin stalked back over to Jess, his mood obviously darkened by the irritating visit from a man who, Jess suspected, hounded him whenever he had a free moment. Being the newest apple to fall from the tree, Jess knew he had, of course, been instantly tarred with the same brush.

"Who was that?" Jess asked, aware this was the first thing he had said to his grandfather since leaving the airport. Franklin gave him a sideways glance.

"Pain in the ass," he snapped, confirming Jess' suspicions. "Stay away from him!" As if Jess needed telling. Then, as though the anger had been expunged from his system, Franklin appeared suddenly calmer. He smiled again, apparently happier now that his grandson was talking to him again and in a somewhat civil manner, too.

"Come on then," he encouraged. "Let's go dump your bag and get you settled in. Then we'll see about getting something to eat – you must be famished." Annoyingly, Jess' traitorous stomach rumbled. He hoped it was quiet enough that Franklin didn't hear it, as he opened the doors and ushered Jess inside.

* * *

Free of his bag, Jess had indeed found it easier to roam. He had retrieved his cell phone and shoved it in his pocket, not daring yet to try to call his uncle and make a futile peace offering. What would he say in any event? Hey Luke, how's the diner? This place is huge – wish you were here? It all sounded hollow and trite and Jess doubted he would even get past 'hello' before Luke hung up on him or until he bottled out and hung up, himself. He'd give it a few days, Jess decided, and see if he'd worked up the nerve by then.

Instead, he decided to focus his mind on his new surroundings. His new room could fit Luke's apartment neatly inside it and the house had more rooms than anyone knew what to do with. Mercifully, neither his aunt nor cousins had been in and so Jess had made a note of which rooms in the house were theirs and planned to steer as clear of them as was humanly possible. However, aside from where the kitchen and bathrooms were, he had ignored the house almost completely.

Outside was far more preferable to him. Although the grounds were walled in, Jess felt for the first time, as though he were able to breathe properly. As he walked, he made a list of everything he hated about the place. The staff, for example – they really pissed him off. Not only did _having_ people waiting on him annoy him but the way they cast curious glances in his direction and then nodded at him in some kind of submissive gesture…it made him want to give them a rather unpleasant response. And then there was the superfluous nature of almost everything around him: the little winding paths in the gardens that led to no-where; statues in corners that hardly anyone would ever discover and rooms without any function he could perceive.

As Jess reluctantly made his way back inside the house, more or less in time for the meal he knew was being set out in the dining room, he realised that in itself was something else that bugged him. Back at Luke's apartment, they had barely sat round a table to eat their meals. Here, there was a breakfast room _and_ a dining room and to top it all off, there was even a room where you assembled _before_ dinner.

Well, screw that, he thought to himself. Did they honestly expect him to assemble with the rest of the family waiting to go in to the dining room like some kind of State banquet every evening? If they did, they would soon have another think coming. He hadn't backed down over the apology in the car and he wouldn't be backing down over this, either.

Today, however, Jess was still a little uncertain of his surroundings and so when his grandfather called his name out, he instinctively followed the sound until he found himself in the very same room.

Sighing, he took a few steps into the ornate drawing room, leaving the door open behind him. One of Franklin's muscle-headed personal assistants immediately closed it again. Heaven forbid they leave an open door to spoil the décor! His grandfather was waiting for him at the far end of the room, sitting in a leather wing-backed chair.

Like something out of a murder mystery, a large, decorative marble fireplace adorned the wall next to the old man and a huge fire was blazing. Another unnecessary touch, Jess grouched, as the central heating was pumping out nicely and the heat from the fire was not needed. In fact, Jess considered, tugging a little at the collar of his t-shirt, it was actually making the room unpleasantly hot.

"Jess," Franklin called again, beckoning him over with one finger. "Come over here. There's something I want you to see."

Jess rolled his eyes but started to walk slowly over to his grandfather, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. "A little over the top, don't you think?" Jess remarked, snidely, nodding his head towards the roaring fire. But Franklin merely shook his head, a little sadly it seemed.

"It _is_ impressive," he remarked lightly, "but I'm afraid this isn't merely for heat." Jess paused and narrowed his eyes a little suspiciously, the large, boldly-coloured paintings on the walls, suddenly seeming to loom over him. "You see," Franklin continued, "I gave you ample opportunity to extend me the courtesy of an apology earlier today and you failed to heed my warnings."

Jess felt his throat tighten as he drew level with his grandfather, gaze falling on the crackling flames. "I need you to understand that you're playing by my rules now, Jess," his grandfather remarked, neutrally. Amongst the ashes and flames of the fire Jess could just about make out the remains of his books, pages curling and turning to cinders, scraps of blue and red and green coverings littering the grate as every last familiar scrap of his old life burnt away.

* * *

Right. That's the lot for now. I really hope you enjoyed reading and please let me know what you think, if you have a spare minute. Thanks!


	19. Chapter 19

Standard disclaimer applies – I don't own them

Fire and Ice – Chapter 19

A/N: there really aren't enough apologies I can offer for so long an absence in between chapters so I can just offer one, huge I'M SORRY. This chapter has been hell to write. Someone said that it was difficult to like this story with such long gaps in between updating and I completely understand and I'm sorry if I've lost people along the way to this. However, at the moment, it's extremely difficult for me to write anything and please believe me when I say I'm trying my hardest. Finally, a huge thank you to everyone who has sent encouragement along the way!

* * *

The fire crackled and popped, sending sudden sparks flying with sharp explosions. Jess stared unblinking at the underwhelming inferno so seemingly inconsequential in its intensity. He watched the edges of the pages curl and crisp. He noted the spread of colour fan across the paper: yellow, seeping into brown then, ever so surely into black. It greedily scavenged its way across the card and linen pages, searching out with sooty fingers. A printed phrase here – something that had once struck a chord deep within him where nothing else could stir emotion – a hand-written observation there, casually scrawled with momentary inspiration: they all meant so little to him now.

The boy's dark eyes seemed to envelope the flames and, though they stung with smoke Jess would not look away. From the side he could feel the old man's casual regard scrutinise his features. Franklin was looking for a weakness. He had, in a sense, broken him, Jess suddenly realised, clipped his wings by removing his only escape he had and he wanted an acknowledgment of the feat. There was only one way to survive intact and it wasn't hard to recall the way to do it: quickly and effortlessly Jess hollowed himself out stripping bare any awareness of self and need, expunging the emotions that would play him directly in to his grandfather's hand.

Finally as the swell of the flames died down he moved his cool gaze on to Franklin's wizened face.

Jess' chin was raised, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Franklin's eyes widened ever so slightly in anticipation and, for a moment, Jess wondered what it would feel like to see those whites of his eyes in a moment of terror not triumph. The teenager gave a short nod. "We're done now," he announced, coolly. Then he turned on his heel and walked away. If he was allowing himself to feel emotion he would have been pleased by the intake of breath from the old man.

"Where do you think you're going, Jess?" his grandfather called after him, keeping his tone light. "Back to Luke?" The question wasn't asked as spitefully as Jess would have expected it.

He shook his head. "Away from you," Jess replied, evenly.

"What about dinner?"

Jess paused, his fingers grazing the top of the door handle. "As you've nothing left to burn I suggest you start with that." The muscle by the oak-paneled door made no move to stop him leaving. Instead he watched him leave and as the door clicked shut behind the boy, the man turned his attention to Franklin.

The old man sat forwards in his armchair and reached a hand down the far-side of the chair, withdrawing a long, sleek poker. He stoked the fire with slow deliberation then drew his hand back, watching as the flames reignited their passionate struggle. For a moment, his anger at his grandson's lack of response seemed mirrored in the wild and vicious dance of the flames. But then, ever so slowly, a smile began to tug the corners of his mouth upwards. Darn it, what he just witnessed wasn't a _lack of response_ it was a _mastery of control_ – admirable by anyone's standards. That Jess had been appropriately reminded of the rules and expectations, Franklin was in no doubt but his grandson had also shown character and adaptability.

He looked over to where his employee still stood, a question waiting in the air. Franklin waved a slight, dismissive gesture. "Yes, you may go now. Inform Chef we will be one less at the meal this afternoon." The man nodded his acknowledgment and left. When the door had closed once more, Franklin turned his attention back to the fireplace. "Yes," he said softly to himself. "I believe the boy and I will get along just fine...in the long run."

* * *

As soon as Jess was free from his grandfather's suffocating presence, he all but ran for the front door, mindful of the curious stares he was getting from the staff. His lungs gulped in the fresh air once outside and Jess lost no time in heading straight for the winding gardens at the back of the property. His thoughts were deliberately frozen in his mind until he was sure of his safety.

The teenager hastily wound his way through the privets and neatly manicured lawns, past colour-coordinated flowerbeds and on to where the tall grass grew as long as the shadows and the floral scents gave way to the encroaching smell of earth and damp leaves. Jess only realised he was running when he stumbled over the gnarled and twisted roots of an elm, landing heavily, flat on his face.

He felt the moss and broken bark beneath his face, starkly cool in contrast to his skin. The sheen of sweat that had been covering his forehead now began to trickle down across the sides of his face in tiny rivulets. Jess coughed sharply, his lungs now all too quick to flare up at the first sign of irritation and dragged himself up onto one elbow. Panting heavily he pulled himself over until his back rested securely against the solid trunk of a tree and he planted his feet firmly in the leaves in front of him.

With slight, tentative movements, Jess leaned his head down until his forehead rested gingerly on his knees as he waited for the world to catch up with him. Or was it the other way around? He wasn't sure he could tell the difference. With no one nearby, with his grandfather safely tucked away within the walls of his mansion, Jess finally allowed his mind to travel to his books. Even alone, even without anyone to impress or to protect, Jess still felt a violent stab of anger and hatred at the tears that sprung to his eyes. Tears were weak and, if there was one lesson to take away from this, it was that he could not afford weakness now. But when the boy thought of his memories, of his life in pages - now in ashes - he allowed himself another brief moment of weakness.

Then he shook his head as if to clear it. Enough of this. Books were paper and ink. They could be easily replaced. _Enough_. As for the annotations written alongside the pages…well, Jess doubted he would ever read the same lines with those same thoughts again. Maybe it was for the best, more...fitting that those words, that those books be destroyed? Maybe it was time to replace them with more appropriate thoughts?

This wasn't Luke. Franklin played by a different set of rules and Jess knew he was going to have to figure out a different way of operating if he was going to get around them. For a moment, his thoughts travelled across the country to Luke. His cell phone still lay in his pocket and Jess slid his hand in to retrieve it before he really knew what he was doing. But there it was, sitting shiny and weighty in the palm of his hand, staring vacantly back at him. The boy's fingers moved gently across the number-pad. He recalled the Christmas, not so many months ago when those same hands had just unwrapped it and he smiled at the memory.

What if he rang now? Jess wondered suddenly. Would Luke still be angry? Would he even talk to him long enough to yell? Or worse – what if he heard his uncle broken and defeated? What if he had hurt Luke as much as he had hurt himself? Then he would be forced to pretend – to pretend everything here was fine, to pretend he liked it - _preferred_ it even - to living with Luke. Planning an argument with Luke was simple to engineer and as easy to predict as the lights at the intersection. Push the right buttons, slam up an emotional barrier between the two of them and turn your gratitude into selfishness. But Jess didn't want to do that, either. It hurt too much to pretend and it would have killed him to have to push Luke away even more so than he already had.

But what if, just _if_, hearing his uncle's voice again was enough to soothe and calm the raging waters in his heart? Surely it couldn't hurt? Just a five minute call? Luke's number was programmed in to his address book and given his meagre number of friends there weren't many people either before or after it. As he pressed the green button, one last safety net threw itself up: this far out, under so many trees, there probably wouldn't be any signal anyway. He was wrong. The phone was answered almost as quickly as it started to ring.

"Hello?" The voice was tired but laced with something unfamiliar – was it hopefulness? Desperation? Jess' heart shot into his mouth and just as his thoughts and voice froze, his finger clamped down on the red button, disconnecting the call with a sharp abruptness.

The teenager almost dropped the phone, recoiling in shock that it could have been that _easy_ and, at the same time, so impossibly difficult. His hands shook and he quickly clamped them tightly between his knees. He could still feel the tremors vibrating through the worn denim and so Jess squeezed his eyes shut tight, willing his racing pulse to slow to an acceptable rhythm: something to convince him that he wasn't about to drop dead from an unsuspected coronary, doomed to lie undiscovered for days.

Eventually, when the roar of his pulsing blood wasn't so deafening in his own ears, Jess raised his head, slowly. Just _hearing_ Luke's voice was enough to send him into a jibbering wreck - God! He needed to grow a frickin' backbone and tough it out! For both their sakes. Franklin's threat and his promise of absolution washed afresh over him, simultaneously chilling and soothing him all at once. He owed this to his uncle. Taking a deep breath, Jess abruptly pushed himself first to his knees and then swiftly to his feet. The forced, unexpected motion made him momentarily stumble and waver from side to side. He quickly shot out a hand which grabbed the nearest tree trunk decisively. It stayed there, clamped around the rough bark like a life-line until the sense of nausea and disorientation passed.

Finally, when the crisscross of foliage above him ceased its restless shimmering and settled back into a steady, solid form, Jess risked taking a steadying breath and pushing himself slightly away from the trunk. He swayed fractionally and righted himself with a small step backwards, hands preparing to catch on to something if he didn't remain upright. Thankfully, he did. He took another gulp of fresh air and the rush of oxygen seemed to circulate rapidly around his body, igniting his senses once again. Jess rubbed a tired hand over his eyes in an effort to re-stimulate his brain into thinking clearing, augmenting the process already begun by the cold, crisp air.

The image of Luke began to fade into the recesses of his mind, retreating further back as Jess mentally shoved it away, locking the kind face with its weary, worry-ridden eyes securely into a deep, dark place. There it had to stay if he was to function properly, Jess told himself. Luke's face, Luke's voice simultaneously brought him comfort, followed quickly by a stabbing pain, right in the centre of his chest: a pain which reminded him of his foolish decision. But something Jess had become quite accustomed to doing was lying in the bed he had made for himself. He took pride in this and though he could feel no pride in this particular instance, the young man still fell back into that familiar routine.

There was a _way _to live with Franklin Mariano, just like there was a part of Jess who was _born_ to adapt to an environment like this. One year earlier, Jess mused, and he might have fallen into step here, quite easily. As it was, living with his grandfather would require a little readjustment if he were going to survive it. Jess slowly began the walk back to the house and with each step that he took, his confidence began to return. Franklin was a player and you just had to learn how to play his game. Jess was nothing if not a quick learner. He felt his mouth draw up in one corner. Luke may not like the person he would have to become here, but in that moment Jess started to understand just how he was going to need to change.

The sweat trickled further down the side of his face and he shook his head, irritably. It wasn't even warm outside – he should have cooled down by now. He quickened his pace: not that he was anxious to be back in his grandfather's company but Jess could feel a shower and a change of clothes beckoning. Then maybe he'd see about breaking free from the walled fortress and heading in to what passed for a town.

When he came to a small flight of white stone steps, set into a grassy slope, Jess realised he had left the unkempt undergrowth of the grounds and was heading back towards the more public, well-maintained gardens. A gruff, permanently tanned man stood hunched over his rose bushes in a corner of the rounded courtyard. Though the bushes bore no blooms at this time of year, Jess could see they were meticulously pruned and well-cared for, as was the grass – positively verdant for this time of year, largely due to the sprinklers that were routinely turned on, come rain or shine. He scowled deeply at Jess as the young man trod carelessly across it, ignoring the path that ran alongside. Jess' fledgling grin widened as he heard the man mutter under his breath and pause to wipe his dirty hands on his shirt.

"Jess!"

Jess started when he heard his name called from a short distance away. He had just crossed the courtyard and was about to head up to the entrance steps when the voice had called out. Immediately, Jess turned to eye the gardener suspiciously but the man merely glanced up at him from under prominent eyebrows, muttered something dark under his breath and then turned his attention back to the pruning shears in his hands.

"Over here, young man." The voice called again and this time Jess turned more accurately to where it was coming from. Instantly, his eyes narrowed and his gut twisted a little. Sheriff Alex Conibear, a tall, lean looking man waited for him outside of his grandfather's gates. Jess recognised him from earlier that day. The sheriff removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of sharp blue eyes. The eyes fixed on him directly and the large man beckoned Jess over with two fingers. The boy hesitated where he stood. Franklin's warning came back to him swiftly: he didn't want Jess anywhere near the local law-enforcement and, for once, Jess was in full agreement with the old man.

But then what choice did he have? The sheriff wanted to talk to him and he didn't have a good reason to refuse. That might have just made the man angry and the last thing Jess really wanted to do was to start making it personal with the police – he'd tried that in New York and, as amusing as it was, it did him no favours in the end.

With a heavy sigh, Jess turned and reluctantly made his way over to the gates. Unconsciously mirroring his grandfather, Jess didn't open the gates but folded his arms and waited for Conibear to speak. Seemingly un-phased by the boy's lack of enthusiasm, Conibear surprised Jess by holding out a hand, through the railings. For a moment, Jess simply stared uncomprehending at it. Eventually, however, when the proffered hand did not retract, Jess returned the gesture, gripping it firmly in his own right hand. He let go almost as soon as contact had been made, the situation too alien for him to feel comfortable with it. Conibear, however, simply nodded at him.

"Alex Conibear," he introduced himself. He didn't add that he was the sheriff, as Jess half expected him to. Apparently, the black and white car with 'Sheriff' plastered over the side was enough. Jess nodded, arms refolded across his chest. He knew who he was; he just wanted the man to get to the point so he could go drown himself in the shower for half an hour.

"You're Jess," Conibear continued. Jess' glare darkened. "How long are you staying with your grandfather for?" Jess blinked, caught off-guard by the question.

"Till whenever," he shrugged, feeling uneasy at the prospect of a visit turning in to the years he knew lay ahead of him. Conibear nodded, thoughtfully, his brain seeming to tick away with something in the background.

"Where were you living before now?" The sheriff leaned casually against the side of his car.

"Do all new residents get this personal welcome?" Jess snapped back. "Or am I the one thousandth lucky winner?" The teenager itched to back up a step or two. In front of him, Conibear simply smiled. The silence stretched between them, making Jess feel awkward. Conibear, however, simply stood patiently and waited for a response.

Finally Jess muttered something under his breath before grudgingly obliging the man with an answer. "Stars Hollow," he mumbled. He didn't bother explaining any further – it was none of the man's damned business anyway. But Conibear seemed to consider it enough. Abruptly, the sheriff changed course. "You know where the High School is round here?" Jess barked out a short, hard laugh – was that what this was all about? Did he have the word 'truant' stamped on his forehead?

"Seriously?" Jess demanded.

The sheriff stared back, appearing nonplussed. "Did I not look serious?"

For a moment, Jess struggled to find a response that wouldn't land him straight in lock-up. "I've been in town _five minutes_ and you're already on my back about going to school?" He stared at the man, incredulously. "You seriously have nothing more pressing to occupy your time with?"

Conibear gave a loose, easy smile. "Not right now, I don't." Jess rolled his eyes and made no attempt to disguise either his disbelief or his disgust.

"If I need a map, I'll Google it, ok?" Conibear nodded then briskly moved into action.

"I'll be checking your grandfather has you registered before the week's out. In the meantime, welcome to Bloomsfield." Jess watched in relief as the man turned his back to Jess, opening the door of his car. When he turned back around to the teenager, suddenly Conibear pulled up short and his eyes narrowed into a frown. He took a step closer to Jess who, instinctively took a step back.

"What?" the boy demanded, feeling uneasy at the sudden scrutiny. Conibear pointed a finger to Jess' head.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out, suspicion clearly written across his face. Though it had been difficult to distinguish the dark trail of blood, running crookedly from the top of the teenager's head, down the side of face and along the hairline, Conibear couldn't believe he'd missed it at first.

Jess opened his mouth in surprise and immediately shot a hand up to the top of his head, where the sheriff's eyes were fixed. He withdrew his hand and looked at it, surprised by the deep red blood her saw coating his fingertips. Gingerly, he probed the wound to assess its damage, though it was difficult to be sure without a mirror. "Damn it," he muttered to himself though from the size of the gash and the blood matting in his hair, Jess surmised it wasn't serious. He cast his mind back to his recent fall – the only thing it could logically be attributed to. He didn't recall hitting his head at the time but the ground had been littered with small, jutting rocks – it would have been a miracle, thinking back on it, if he _had_ managed to avoid hitting one on the way down.

"You alright?" Conibear asked. Jess could see him come closer to the gates, obviously wanting to come in.

Quickly, Jess stopped him in his tracks, holding out one hand to stall him. "I'm fine!" he insisted, gruffly, backing up a step or two. "Just fell and hit my head." Conibear narrowed his eyes as he appraised the boy, silently. He looked like he _really_ wanted to open that gate.

"Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?" Despite the panic that thought brought to him, Jess couldn't help but notice that he hadn't offered to find Franklin . Jess shook his head and then instantly regretted it.

"I'm _fine_," he insisted again. "It's just a scratch." Conibear hesitated for a moment before giving a slow nod.

"If you're sure," he acquiesced, a little unwillingly it seemed. "You make sure you tell your grandfather about this," the man insisted firmly. "He may want to get it checked out." Jess was already stumbling away from him, eager to be out of the man's keen sight.

"Whatever!" he called over his shoulder and then turned and made for the front door with haste, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the nosy Sheriff Conibear. He twisted the handle of the front door and pushed, hoping it wasn't locked. A set of house keys was something he had overlooked to ask for. Luckily, the door opened and he darted through, giving the door a half-hearted shove to close it again. The wood was much heavier than Luke's doors and did not oblige him with the same slam that always sounded so satisfying at his uncle's. Eventually, the swinging door clicked shut.

Now that he was aware of its presence, the dried blood on his skin tightened and itched making Jess desperate to wash it off. "About time you got back in," came his grandfather's voice from the bottom of the staircase. Jess paused and let out a quiet groan: a confrontation was the last thing he wanted now – not when a shower and a change of clothes were so much more pressing. Nevertheless, Jess obligingly turned to the sound and watched Franklin make his way over to him.

"You've missed dinner," the old man remarked, unnecessarily.

Jess' eyes held his grandfather's. "I noticed." Franklin drew in a shallow, pensive breath.

"Where have you been?"

"Out."

His grandfather's response was sharper than his uncle's would have been: "Out _where_?" Jess was a little taken aback by the ferocity behind the simple question. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to turn his body away from his grandfather.

"Just in the gardens, out the back." He could feel Frankin's eyes boring a hole in his back. Then the man grasped his upper arm tightly and turned him, not quite spinning him, back around to face him. Jess couldn't help but wince at the granite-like expression though the reason for it baffled him.

"When I was upstairs, near the front windows, I thought I could hear you talking to someone outside." The old man's face seemed to twist into a smile though his eyes were strangely cold. "Who was it?"

Jess had never been sure about his instincts before – they tended to lead him in to trouble. But now, on this particular instance, Jess was willing to trust them and his instincts were telling him to keep his conversation with Sheriff Conibear, however innocuous it appeared, a secret. So instead he rolled his eyes and replied: "Just the gardener. I don't know his name." Franklin released his arm and seemed to consider his grandson carefully.

"He share any gardening tips with you?" The question was asked lightly but Jess almost staggered beneath it.

"Only to stay off his damned lawn." At that, Franklin's face relaxed and he let out a low chuckle. Jess felt the pressure leave his shoulders at once.

"You don't want to get on the wrong side of Kay," remarked Franklin. "He takes that garden very seriously."

Jess managed a small laugh back. "I'll remember that."

Franklin pretended to frown at him – "Hmm, only to make his life more difficult, I would imagine." Then suddenly, Franklin changed the topic. "We're meeting my lawyers tomorrow, after breakfast. We have a hearing with the Judge in two days and I want to be prepared."

Jess stared at him in indignant shock: "But I haven't _done_ anything!" he insisted, hotly. But Franklin merely rolled his eyes at the boy's assumptions.

"A _custody_ meeting, Jess." On hearing the words spoken out loud, Jess' stomach clenched into a tight knot and the earlier feeling of nausea returned. Not long now and it would be official – legal. It was only then that he realised that some part of him, some small, childish part of him, had been waiting for Luke to swoop in and whisk him away from all of this, just in the nick of time. But two days? Jess gulped down his sinking feeling of horror. There was no _nick of time_ for him: this was it – this was the life he had chosen and no one was going to save him from a fate he willingly walked in to.

"Right," his voice agreed, weakly. A strong hand suddenly lifted up his chin and Jess found himself looking in to the old man's scrutinising eyes.

"You'd better clean that head up," he remarked, casually. "You'll need to be looking presentable and I can't risk that healing badly." Then he released Jess' chin and stepped back. Jess hated to admit it, but he suddenly ached for the overbearing concern that Luke would have heaped upon him in the same situation. He could feel his eyes prickle and the heat flood to his cheeks. Quickly, Jess turned away and nodded.

"I was just about to do that," he muttered as he stumbled his way quickly to the staircase. He didn't wait for Franklin's reaction, but took the stairs two at a time until he was on the first-floor landing.

Once there, away from his grandfather's prying eyes, Jess took a moment for himself, leaning heavily against the banister. The sudden pain of his uncle's absence and his grandfather's looming presence had him doubled over, one arm wrapped around his middle as he fought to control the urge to scream or cry. It would be alright, he told himself over and over again like a mantra. He'd been in worse situations – far worse. Everything was going to be alright. But how nice, how warm and comforting it would have been to have heard those words from somebody else: from Lorelai? From Luke? Even from Rory? Was anyone ever going to assure him that things were okay now?

Pulling himself upright, Jess fought and won to regain his self-control. He made his way back to his room and pulled out a fresh set of clothes from the carryall, dumped on his bed. Then he opened the door to the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was freezing so he took the time, while it heated up, to dig around the various cabinets for a medical kit. He found towels and toiletries but nothing that he could really use for his head. Checking the water and turning the spray down a little, Jess left his rooms and headed back out into the corridor.

Where on earth was he meant to find a medical kit? Just then he spotted a member of the house-keeping staff, carrying a pile of what looked like clean linen into one of the bedrooms.

"Hey!" he called out, uncertainly. The small woman turned and hurried over to him.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked. Jess ignored the 'sir' bit – his head was starting to hurt.

"Yeah, I need a medical kit, I just have no idea where to find one." He trailed off, feeling suddenly awkward. She gasped when she saw the blood but immediately composed herself.

"Of course – please wait here a moment. I'll be right back." Then she disappeared, taking the pile of linen with her. She slipped in to one of the bedroom suites and when she emerged, about thirty seconds later, she had deposited the linen pile and in its place was a small, plastic box. Hurrying back to him, she pressed it into his hands. "If you need any help or anything else," she insisted, "please ask." Jess nodded his thanks, already turning away. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Whose is this?" he asked. The woman glanced back towards the rooms.

"Miss Miranda's, sir but it's the closest one to hand." Jess pursed his lips, thoughtfully. He couldn't imagine it was the best way to ingratiate yourself to your new aunt – rummaging through her peroxide bottles and band-aids.

"Where is she, anyway?" Jess asked. He suddenly realised that he had expected his aunt and her two daughters to have come barrelling in to the mansion by now, demanding to know what Franklin had been thinking of, bring home stray trash like him.

"She and her daughters are visiting her mother, in Vermont. They should be back tomorrow."

"Huh," Jess responded. Then he held up the box. "Thanks for this," he said, quietly. He didn't wait for a response before he darted back to his rooms.

The shower was ready and Jess quickly undressed and stepped under the steady stream of water. He could feel the pummelling drops easing some of the knots from his taut shoulders and neck. It felt a little too hard on his damaged forehead but Jess didn't let that bother him. The water washed away a week's worth of grime and a lifetime's worth of uneasiness. Jess leaned against the tiled walls of the shower and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift. It was only when he felt himself start to slip that he snapped out of his daze and quickly shut the shower off.

Once dry and in a clean set of clothes, Jess perched on his bed, in front of a mirror and began to attend to the gash in his head. He frowned at the newly flowing blood - aggravated as it had been by the shower. He dug around in the box for disinfectant, cotton wool and band-aids before realising that gauze and bandages were going to be more effective, at least for the first day or so. After cleaning the wound and stemming the bleeding, Jess frowned at the size of the wound. He pinched the two ends together and was pleased to see that they easily met in the middle. He smiled - the last thing he wanted was a trip to the ER. Luckily, Jess also found a packet of self-adhesive, surgical dressings – far less conspicuous and fiddly than bandages.

When he was done, Jess appraised his handiwork in the mirror. Would it pass Franklin's inspection, he wondered? It looked…clean, and inoffensive. Jess figured it was as good as it was going to get. Spying a bottle of Tyelnol at the bottom of the medical kit, Jess popped a couple into his hand and downed them with a glass of water from the bathroom. Then he sat on the bed, pulled on his sneakers and grabbed his coat from the floor where he'd let it fall earlier.

As he padded downstairs, heading for the front door, Jess passed Franklin, a folder and the house phone in his hands. Franklin stopped when he saw him and, knowing he wouldn't get past without inspection, Jess stopped too. Franklin turned Jess' face to him once more. His eyes squinted at where the blood had been. "It's the best I could do," Jess snapped, defensively, shrugging out of his grandfather's grip.

Franklin nodded. "It'll do," he replied. Then he looked suspiciously at Jess' coat. "You going out?"

Jess shifted a little on the spot. "Just for a walk around town. Get some air."

But Franklin was shaking his head, firmly. "Not a chance – you've hit your head; you could have a concussion."

Jess' expression was both infuriated and disbelieving. "Oh, so _now_ you're worried about it? What the hell?"

Franklin frowned heavily at his tone but decided to let it pass. "I want you here where we can keep an eye on you," he replied, his tone broaching no arguments. "If you feel up to it later, I have some papers for you to look through from my lawyers."

Jess pressed his lips together, tightly, his hand gripping the banister more than it needed to. "Now there's a tempting alternative to a night out." Still, he abandoned his mission to the front door. Franklin played hardball and Jess wasn't up for another round tonight. He sighed, heavily. Then a thought struck him.

"What about the other papers you promised me?" he demanded. Franklin turned curious eyes on him.

"What other papers, son?"

Jess ignored the familial term. His brain was suddenly engaged on a much more pressing topic. "You know the ones," he ground out between clenched teeth. Franklin was surprised to see the animal in the boy, suddenly stirred. "The ones you promised me when I landed – the ones that prove you've stopped this stupid court case with Luke."

Realisation seemed to dawn on Franklin. He smiled, smoothly. "Oh yes, them. I haven't forgotten."

"Well then, _when_?" Jess replied, angrily. He intended, once he had made copies of the papers, to send them to Luke straight away so at least he could prove that his departure had not been for nothing. It was to be his parting gift to the man.

"All in good time, Jess." Was all Franklin would say before he patted the teenager on the shoulder and brushed gently past him on his way upstairs. Jess watched him go, as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

* * *

The smell of tobacco mingled with the aroma of stale coffee. Deputy Hanover sighed as he covered the phone receiver with one hand. He leaned over in his office chair as far as he dared without tipping it over, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. "Sheriff?" he called, absently flicking a fly off the corner of his sandwich. "We got another report about those kids causing trouble with the four by fours out on McGarrett's farm. You want me to take it?"

He watched as Alex Conibear, having only just walked in to the station, rolled his eyes but turned right back around again. "Naw, it's okay Andy – I'll take it." Andy Hanover nodded and turned his attention back to the caller.

"Sheriff Conibear will be right over there," he informed the caller. Then, after a moment or two more, he hung up. Andy turned to where his boss was shrugging back into his jacket.

"Oh, Andy?" Conibear paused with his fingers on the door handle. His deputy looked up and took the sheet of paper that Conibear was holding out to him.

"What's this, boss?" He unfolded the paper to reveal a name and a town written on it.

"I need you to do some digging for me," the sheriff replied.

"What's he done?" Andy wondered. Conibear shook his head.

"Nothing. This is…something else. I just need you to find where he lived – _who_ he lived with. Do you mind?" Andy grinned and shook his head, twirling a pencil round in his fingers.

"Consider it done, boss." Conibear nodded his thanks and then left. Andy looked at the name on the paper again. "Jess Mariano?" he read aloud. "Let's see what you got."

* * *

OK. The end for now. I'm going to start the next chapter as soon as I post this so I will at least have a headway in to chapter 20. Thank you if you made it this far. By the way, any references to Christmas and presents are not taken from the series but from a previous story - they aren't important but please don't waste any time thinking back through your GG recollections - I promise, you remember them correctly :-)


	20. Chapter 20

**Fire and Ice – Chapter 20**

Disclaimer applies – I don't own anyone.

Thank you for all your feedback and support.

Please enjoy. Missed you guys.

* * *

Almost one week and no letter: that was a good thing. It should have been one weight off his mind. As Luke dropped another item into his shopping basket, he thought he caught a glimpse of Taylor's querulous expression, tracking his progress through the aisles of the market, from behind a pyramid of tin cans. The portly man clutched a price gun in one hand and seemed to be randomly firing it off whenever he sensed his quarry becoming suspicious.

Luke purposefully doubled back along the aisle and ducked behind a stack of detergents, shielding him from further surveillance. Though he told himself he was being paranoid, Luke could not shake the feeling that the whole town had been watching him closely, ever since the abrupt and unexplained departure of his nephew, some days earlier. Such intense scrutiny was giving him a newfound understanding of what Jess must have felt like every day of his life in Stars Hollow – the monitoring, the whispering, the sideways glances. An unwelcome sense of empathy washed over Luke and he brusquely pushed it aside. It was a little damned late to be developing a sense of empathy with the boy now.

He scoured the different brands of washing powder for his usual choice and as he did so, Luke's mind travelled back to the letter – or lack, thereof. No notice of court hearings, no further contact with the police, nothing that should force him into meetings with lawyers and judges and social services. Any connection he still had with his time with Jess appeared to be slowly disentangling itself from the roots of his life. The section of his filing cabinet dedicated to his nephew still remained and, while nothing more would be added to it, Luke couldn't bring himself to remove it either.

Irritably, Luke realised his regular detergent was no-where to be seen. He could ask Taylor if there was any more out back, but then did he really want to initiate a conversation? Sighing, Luke picked up a slightly cheaper alternative and shoved it in the basket, taking a second to consider the eggs and position the heavy bottle with a little more care.

The thick liquid in the plastic bottle sloshed from side to side. Luke had used the brand for years, right up until Jess. The first round of laundry had brought out a fierce rash over Jess' arms and legs and Luke had been forced to switch. The man lightly ran his fingers over the brightly coloured washing label so confidently advertising its ability to get everything bright and clean. He bit the inside of his cheek: he really wanted that old detergent back.

A quiet, slightly uncertain cough sounded behind him and Luke turned to the familiar sound. A small, tired smile crept across his face. "Hi Rory."

"Hi," she replied, softly. Her hair was tied back into a pony tail and she tucked some loose strands behind one ear as she took another step closer to him. Luke glanced at the basket she was carrying: a box of cereal and a couple of cans. It wasn't yet heavy enough for him to offer to carry it. Not that she would _need_ him to but Luke had never been able to resist the offer.

Having made first contact, Rory now seemed to hesitate. Luke stood, waiting as patiently as he could. If anyone deserved his patience, it was Rory. Lorelai had told her daughter about the reasons for Jess' departure, or what he imagined to be a slightly edited version but Luke had yet to see the younger Gilmore himself until now. It wasn't as though he had been avoided her, Luke had told himself. Why on earth would he want to do that?

Sensing her awkwardness, Luke made a token effort to help ease her along: "How's your mom?"

The girl smiled. "She's fine." Another pause as Rory readjusted the balance of her basket. "I was wondering…" she began, glancing over towards the front of the store. Luke followed her gaze and then suddenly began to understand a little more. Dean was working tonight. "I was wondering," Rory repeated in a lower voice, "if you've heard from Jess lately?" Her features were as neutral as she could school them but her tone belied her hopefulness. Again, her gaze flickered to the check-out where her boyfriend stood, efficiently bagging groceries yet somehow unaware of his girlfriend's presence. How he'd missed her on the way in, Luke wasn't sure.

Luke's heart clenched a little, even as he shook his head. His brain purposefully skipped over the wordless phone call a day or so ago. If it had been Jess, his nephew had obviously decided against talking to him and Luke had mentally run through so many versions of the conversation he wanted to have that he had only managed to talk himself out of making the first move. Fear of rejection, fear of provoking a cruel argument, fear of hearing his own failure reflected in his nephew's miserable tone: for the time being, cowardice had won out.

He noted the light dull a little in her eyes on hearing this and felt simultaneously dismayed for her pain but heartened that he was not alone in his own. "Oh," Rory answered and then attempted a weak smile. "I'll bet he's really busy. Settling in to a new town and school and everything, it can be really daunting." She gave an uneasy laugh, neither one convinced by the impromptu sales pitch.

Luke hesitated. He wanted desperately to be able to reassure her, to envelope her in an awkward hug and give her the assurances she needed: that Jess would be home soon, that he just needed to sort a few things out in his head, tie up a few loose ends and then he would be back causing trouble before they knew it. Only that was a lie. Jess was gone. The apartment whispered it to him constantly. No matter how many times he moved aside the boxes of his nephew's left-overs, Luke always managed to end up tripping over them. It was as if the teenager was terrified of being forgotten, pushed aside.

"I'm sure he'll be in touch," Luke suggested, feeling like the desperate liar he was. The girl nodded her head. "I'm sure he will," she agreed. Then she looked as though she were making to go when suddenly she turned back to Luke. "I was wondering," Rory began again, "if you could give me Jess' new address?"

Luke raised a surprised eyebrow and let his mouth hang open a little longer than he should have done. "Of course," Rory continued, hastily, "if he doesn't want to talk to me or if you think it's none of my business then I would totally understand." She held up her hands in front of her, as if to assure him all was okay and began to slowly back away. But Luke was now doubly confused.

"Why would he not want you to know where he is?" he questioned, incredulously. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Luke thought this was the perfect solution. If anything was likely to entice his nephew into a conversation or draw him out of his grandfather's shadow, it was Rory Gilmore. Jess may not talk to Luke, but come hell or high water, he couldn't keep away from that girl for longer than a week.

Before him, Rory glanced down to her shoes, abashed. "We kind of argued right before he left," she admitted in a small voice. "I wasn't really very nice to him. Well, I guess we weren't too nice to _each other_ but I still should have been more understanding." Luke hid his surprise well. Lorelai hadn't mentioned that, but then at the end of the day an argument with her daughter had made little difference to the final outcome.

He smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure he's over that by now," Luke assured her. "I bet he'd love to hear from you."

"It's just that he leant me this book," she continued, feeling the need to explain, embarrassment propelling her onwards. "It was a really special book – Charles Dickens first edition. I'd like to send it back to him." Luke's eyes narrowed. He recalled the book and the day which Jess' manipulative grandfather had given it to him. As far as he was concerned, Rory could keep the damned thing or sell it or give it to a homeless guy to use as kindling. But knowing this wasn't an appropriate sentiment to share with this impressionable young girl, not to mention that suggesting burning a book to Rory Gilmore was akin to suggesting kicking a puppy to animal lovers, Luke wisely decided to keep it to himself.

"I know the one," Luke affirmed. He took a deep breath. "I'll dig around a little – see if I can route out his address for you." He couldn't bear to admit the truth: he didn't actually _know_ Franklin's address. He had allowed his nephew to leave home with a manipulative, possibly dangerous man and Luke didn't even know where he lived! Shame burned through him and set his cheeks ablaze. What kind of a guardian _was_ he? He bit back a hard laugh: the kind that loses their kid. He only hoped Rory didn't pick up on it.

Rory smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Luke." Then she glanced down at her nearly empty basket. "I'm just about done," she remarked lightly, indicating the few items. Suddenly Luke wasn't so sure if groceries were the only thing she had come in for. Nevertheless, he nodded. "Me too. I'll, uh…if you want, I can walk with you to the check-out?" Then he registered how that sounded. "Not that I think you need _help_ or anything but I…"

But Rory cut him off with a reassuring grin. "It's okay, Luke. I'd like the company. You never know how long those lines are going to take to move." They both made their way to the front of the store. "Do you miss him?" she asked, suddenly, eyes steadfastly facing forwards.

Luke paused as he allowed her to go in-front of him in the line. Miss him? Is that was this was? Was that the ache in his chest when he woke up in the morning? The impulse to ask a phantom presence what they'd done with the peanut butter when you couldn't find the jar in its usual spot? Was that _missing him_? It felt a little bit like losing his mind, if he was honest.

Finally however, he replied softly: "Yeah, kiddo. I miss him." Rory nodded, thoughtfully as she began to place her purchases onto the conveyor belt.

"He could come back?" she suggested. Then she quietly amended, "I mean, for a visit. Nebraska's not that far away."

Her meagre selection of shopping already laid out, Luke placed the divider sign after them and started to arrange his own items. For a moment, he held the bright and cheerful detergent bottle in his hands, his fingers gripping it more tightly than strictly necessary. "Sure he could." Luke hedged his bets, suddenly wishing it was Lorelai he was talking to, needing to unburden but hesitant to put too much on the girl's shoulders. "But what we had…" He paused for a moment as Taylor walked past, passing a tray of change to the girl on the cashier's desk. "I'm not sure I can ever get that back again."

"You need to press charges."

They both looked up in surprise to where Taylor stood by the cash desk. The older man's arms were folded across his broad chest and he was shaking his head sadly. Rory opened her mouth, as if to clear up the confusion but Luke wasn't so keen to conform.

"Excuse me, Taylor?" he demanded. The other man shook his head again.

"I'm sorry Luke but the whole town has known something like this was bound to happen in the end." He saw the dark clouds begin to move across the younger man's face and held up a forestalling hand. "No one blames you, Luke," he assured him. "You did your Christian duty, taking in a wayward teen and a family member to boot. But whatever that hoodlum stole from you, family or not, you need to take some more pro-active steps to get it back." If he noticed the cold, hard set to Luke's granite-like expression, Taylor either didn't notice or has misinterpreted it. "Be a little more aggressive!" the man advised.

Luke could feel his blood begin to boil even as a chill shuddered through his body. In his misguided way, Taylor Doose would never know how close to the mark he had come. With great restraint, he placed his half full basket on the conveyor belt. "Trust me, Taylor," he all but snarled, "you really don't want me aggressive right now." With that, the man stalked past Rory and Taylor without another word.

"Hey!" Taylor called out after his retreating form. "You can't just leave that here, young man!" Even as Luke disappeared from view, storming through the market doors and off down the street his indignation made him continue. "Who do you suppose is meant to clear all that away? Me?" A scowl lining his frumpy face, he looked for support to his nearest customer only to find Rory with an equally deep frown, glaring in his direction, lips pressed tightly together. The normally placating young lady looked very much as though she wanted to take up where Luke Danes had previously left off.

Before she could utter a syllable however, a strong pair of hands had reached down and plucked Luke's basket out of the way. She looked up in surprise to see Dean, an expression blended between guilt and sympathy spread across his face.

"I'll do it," he said quietly. Taylor raised an eyebrow, considered making a bigger event out of it but then relented with a sigh.

"Thank you, Dean. Make sure you put them back in the correct places. I can't abide a disorganised shelf." Then he turned on his heel and stalked off down to the other end of the store heading straight towards an unfortunate employee who was failing in some aspect of their duty. As Dean nodded and hefted the re-packed basket away, he glanced down to Rory and gave her an embarrassed smile.

She returned it with a small, "Thanks," aware that her boyfriend had either heard more than she intended him to or understood more than she gave him credit for. Jess was right: maybe Dean _did_ deserve more of her attention. So why was it becoming so hard for her to give it?

* * *

One minute and ten seconds: Jess had now timed them six times and each time, barring any unusual occurrences such as one vehicle following another, that was how long the electric gates took to open and fully close. One minute and ten seconds. It wasn't long but it was long enough for what he had planned.

The mechanical dragging, clanking and whirring that occurred whenever the gates opened echoed throughout the courtyard and could be heard clearly within the front rooms of the house. They shrieked his intentions like the Greek Furies of the Underworld as the metal frame ploughed the gravel driveway into its familiar imprinted arc. Almost a week had gone by now – nearly one whole week. Jess hadn't lasted one _hour_ in Luke's apartment on his arrival in Stars Hollow before he had made his escape into the town – as far as it could have been called an 'escape'.

But with Franklin? He had never been kept under such close scrutiny and control in his life! Just what his grandfather was afraid of, Jess couldn't work out but it was as though he suspected Jess was going to be lynched as soon as he stepped foot into public on his own. Or maybe he thought Jess' particular brand of delinquency would be too much for the good citizens of Bloomfield to comprehend?

The house doors were too heavy to open and close either quickly or quietly, the hallways too exposed and too long for him to traverse unnoticed and the outer gates were far too conspicuous in their opening for him to surreptitiously stroll outside. Jess was starting to feel even more like an inmate than when he first felt the iron grip of his grandfather around his throat – metaphorically speaking. The iron railings and solid stone walls surrounding the property held an ominous, towering presence that seemed to press in on him from every side. Sure, the grounds were capacious and Jess enjoyed wandering the unkempt, wooded area towards the back of the mansion. But even when he couldn't see them, Jess _felt_ the walls standing firm. They taunted him – whispered to him, _about_ him.

Every day, at some point in the morning, a convoy of several polished black cars made their way into his grandfather's mansion. Jess wasn't sure what their business was but he recognised one of the men from the pre-custody meeting he had been forced to attend the other day: a fairly short man, thin blonde hair and narrow-rimmed wire glasses that looked expensive. Mannings, his name was.

He'd taken particular pains to explain to Jess the upcoming legal proceedings and all its ramifications. Immediately, the lawyer had pulled up a chair next to where Jess sat, or rather slouched in a leather arm chair and had not seemed at all put out that Jess was staring at him with open hostility. As superfluous as his opinion was in these procedures, Jess found that it had actually felt a little reassuring to have the impression he was being involved. However, Franklin's smile had tightened throughout the lengthy explanations and he had, Jess later realised, stopped the man from out-right asking him any questions or learning his opinion on the matters.

The rest of the men, Jess could only guess at and wasn't particularly inclined to do that, either. They all seemed to be locked in discussions with Franklin, holed away in the man's fortress of a private study, the doors solidly locked behind them. Jess had once tried to open them, only to be seen off by an attendant. Like Jess gave a crap what the old fox did to earn his dirty millions.

That morning, Jess had secured himself a spot in the front garden somewhere neatly tucked away between Kay's well pruned rose bushes and privet hedges. He had found a book from the mansion's little-used library and had absently buried his nose in it while waiting for the cars to arrive. Franklin had been pleased to see his grandson finally using the mansion's resources and had beamed approvingly at him when he saw Jess leaving the library, book in hand. Smiling still wasn't natural to Jess but the teenager had managed what he hoped was a civil nod in his direction.

Jess had quickly learnt that the quieter and calmer he behaved, the less his actions were monitored by those around him and it had afforded him a little bit of well-earned privacy now. Though it killed him to conform or at least give the impression of compliance, Jess was nothing if not pragmatic. He _had_ to get out on his own for a while and if leaving his Metallica t-shirt and scruffy jeans still stuffed in his bag was the way to accomplish this, then the teenager was willing to make some sacrifices.

His thoughts were interrupted though with the sound of rumbling engines just outside the gate. Immediately, Jess pocketed the book even as his blood began to pump a little faster round his body. Springing up from the ground, Jess moved into a crouch, testing his balance nervously on the balls of his feet. Two black cars this time, rolling slowly up to the gates then drawing to a stop so the driver of the first could punch in a code. Jess' keen, dark eyes followed their progress greedily. Carefully, ever so carefully he began to inch his way along the sides of wall leading to the gate, being sure to keep out of sight until he was waiting behind one the impressive stone pillars.

Tiny electronic beeps told him the code had been accepted. Jess took a breath and held it, pressing his back even flatter against the stone and praying no-one from the house was watching the gate. He could hear the men's rumbling voices through the open window of the first car though their words were indistinct. And then it happened, just as it should have done but nonetheless, Jess had been scared something abnormal would go wrong that day – the electric gates began to whir to life, grinding their path across the tiny stones. The impulse to run straight towards the opening was powerful but Jess forced himself to hold back.

"Just a little longer," he muttered quietly to himself as the first car drove through, followed by the second. They made their way along the curved driveway, too slowly for Jess' liking. "Come on!" he urged them. The second car paused a moment, brake lights flashing up, too near to his hiding place for Jess to dart through unseen. Jess glanced at his watch: thirty seconds before the gates clanged shut and only about twenty until the gap became too narrow for even his slight build to slip through.

The first car pulled up in front of the mansion's doors and parked, the driver and passenger stepping out. Jess drummed his fingers impatiently on his leg. That damned second car was just _sitting there_, less than two metres from where he crouched: one look in the rear-view mirror and there was no-where for Jess to hide. Inside his chest, Jess could feel his heart start to pound faster. As his agitation increased, so his lungs began to itch. '_Damn it'_, Jess thought. '_Not now!_ _This is not the time'._ The tendency Jess' lungs now had for constricting airflow after that damned fall through the ice was something the young man now realised he _had_ to get sorted out!

Jess licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed down a cough. Behind him, he heard the mechanics start to spring to life again, their dependable timer telling them any vehicle had safely passed through. Jess' eyes widened as he saw his chance escaping. Looking back to the car, Jess came to a sudden conclusion: if not now, **when**? Screw it! He was taking the chance. However, just as he reached his decision, the second car seemed to come to life, the driver having finished attending to whatever business he'd had.

A grin spread over Jess' face as he watched it drive away to the front of the house as he simultaneously dove out from behind his pillar and lunged for the closing gap. He held his breath as he passed in-between the two closing gates, feeling the back of his jacket brush cold metal.

When clear of the gates, Jess stood straighter and could actually have cried out in triumph! Strike one to the old man. The driveway up to the road to town was fairly long but Jess relished the walk and in no time at all, he had crossed the threshold of his grandfather's property and turned off onto the main road into town. Even the air outside of his grandfather's place seemed fresher, the sky above him bluer. Jess kept to the grassy banks that ran either side of the road and, with his hands in his pockets, he continued at a brisk pace feeling the unnatural curl of a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

The freedom of being outside was exhilarating even if his destination fell somewhat short of a bustling metropolis. On his journey from the airport to the mansion Jess had noted little of his surroundings aside from farm land and vacant lots and had therefore been quite encouraged to learn that the town lay within a reasonable distance, off to east.

Thinking back, he recalled the trip into town, accompanied by one of Franklin's men. Franklin had seemed reluctant to be seen in public with him though the outing had been at his grandfather's instigation. His custody hearing was right around the corner and it had been decided that even Jess' least offensive clothing was not smart enough to give off the right impression.

Though he had hated to put himself at anyone's mercy, Jess had managed to beg a diversion from clothing stores and tailors and over to the nearest bookshop, now desperate to replace some of his collection. At first the hired muscle had been reluctant to deviate from his ordered itinerary. He had glanced at Jess suspiciously, then down to his watch and then over to where the small store sat across the street. Jess had held his breath – he couldn't outrun this goon and didn't even want to contemplate an out-and-out confrontation (the man's arms were almost the same depth as the teenager's torso).

"Come on! It's not like I'm going to make a run for it," he'd urged his companion, though Jess would have been lying if he said that idea hadn't occurred to him. "It's right across the street!" The man's gaze had followed where Jess pointed, zeroing in on the little painted wooden storefront, then glanced back at his watch. Just when the boy was sure he was going to be hauled back into the black SUV, his companion had relented with a quick, affirmative nod. Apparently, he was willing to take Jess at his word and made no move to follow him to the store, content to watch from across the street.

In the store, Jess had tentatively run his fingers over the covers and spines of the books he knew so well. The owner of the shop sat behind the counter, idly reading a newspaper and paying Jess little attention. There was a part of him that now wondered if bringing more books back was just giving his grandfather something else to control him with. But these books, Jess decided, would be his secret – he would keep them safe, untainted. In public, around prying eyes, he would take from the library but in his own time these slim books would once more become his confidents. Jess had allowed himself a smile at the thought, cradling his selection protectively to his chest as he had taken them up to the counter.

A loud, sharp beep of a car horn from just ahead of him suddenly plucked Jess rudely out of reminiscing. Jess didn't bother raising his head to look up but instinctively sidestepped further up the side of the slanted bank, assuming he had allowed himself to carelessly wander too far into the road. But instead of continuing down the road as he expected the car to do, instead Jess head the hand-brake pull on and the car shift into reverse as it slowly made its way backwards, the tyres crackling over the sandy grit lining the road's edge as it pulled up alongside him.

His fingers clenched beneath the cuffs of his jacket.

"What are you doing out here, Jess?"

His back still to the car, Jess closed his eyes in dismay before he slowly turned to Franklin Mariano, leaning out the window of his car. "What does it look like?" Jess snapped back – he was trying to be polite but damn it, it was hard! "I'm just heading in to town – didn't know that was against the law." Franklin shut off the engine and sat back in his leather seat, regarding Jess in that familiar, hawk-like manner.

"Now isn't a good time, son." Jess bristled at the term but forced himself to let it slide. Franklin continued. "We have the meeting with Judge Ellis at four and I need to make sure we're all up to speed – I'm running late for a meeting as it is." And despite knowing this day, this meeting was coming up, Jess still could not help it when his dark eyes narrowed, his teeth ground in frustration and he all but kicked the ground beneath him.

"I just want a God damned _walk_!" he half shouted, half pleaded. "I'm not going to be gone for hours or cause a riot while I'm out or anything." Surely his grandfather couldn't refuse him the simple freedom to walk outside?

Jess grasped blindly at a thought that occurred to him as he sought to desperately understand the old man's reasoning. "What? Am I…am I grounded or something?" He threw his arms wide and then let them slap back against his sides, helplessly. He felt tears threaten to prick at his eyes and furiously put a stop to it. Why was it, his fight was leaving him just when he needed it the most? It didn't make sense.

"You're not in trouble, Jess," his grandfather informed him gently. "If you like, I'll take you in to town later on, after the hearing?" Jess sighed heavily, not wanting to turn down what could end up being the best offer he was likely to get but still not happy.

"I want some time alone," he muttered, eyes refusing to meet the old man's resolute expression. For his part, Franklin appeared to consider this for a moment. He tilted his head to one side for a second as he looked at his grandson, his mind calculating.

"Very well," he announced causing Jess' head to snap up in surprise and properly look at Franklin for the first time. When he saw this, Franklin smiled a smile that made Jess realise he'd just lost the battle _again_ and then leaned over to pointedly open the passenger door. With a resigned sigh, Jess trudged around the hood of the car and slunk heavily into the seat, relishing the fact this was at least one door that he _could_ still slam.

"Very well _what_?" Jess asked, trying hard to keep his tone conciliatory now that there was hope of a reprieve. Franklin chuckled indulgently at the sour tone which once more confused the young man. Checking his mirrors, Franklin pulled out from the side of the road and continued his drive, taking them both back to the place Jess thought he had escaped from just moments earlier. Why hadn't he thought to check if his grandfather's car was there before he left?

"I'll drop you off in town this evening," Franklin offered. "After the hearing. We'll go home, you can change out of the 'monkey suit' that I know you'll hate wearing, we'll have a nice family dinner with your aunt and cousins and then I'll drive you into town. Pick you up a few hours later." He gave a quick glance across to his grandson. "What do you say? Sound good?"

Jess truly hated the fact that he was going to have to say 'thank you'. But this did sound about as generous an offer as he could see Franklin making. Still, there was maybe time to negotiate a new perk. "Everything will be closing," he pointed out. "And there'll be no-one around." His grandfather raised one eyebrow.

"I thought that was how you liked it?" he countered. "Since when does Jess Mariano want company?" The imposing gates once more hove into view. Something in Jess' stomach started to knot. For his part, Jess looked away and shrugged: just when did he start wanting people around so desperately, he wondered? But every time he found a legitimate way to come into contact with people, his grandfather countered with an equally legitimate reason to foil him.

"School!" Jess suddenly blurted out. Franklin turned to him, curiously. They were at the gates now and he pressed the button to wind the window down. "Come again?" the old man asked.

Jess looked away, embarrassed at the unexpected outburst. "Don't I need to be registered for a school around here?" Paused at the gates, Franklin was looking at him as though he'd grown a second head and he had to admit, Jess was feeling the same way himself. He never would have thought the day would come when he would actually enquire into going to school! But if that's what it took to see signs of other human life…

So Jess steeled himself for the incredulous questioning. Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long. "_You_ are asking about going to school?" Franklin clarified, clearly starting to wonder if he'd picked up the wrong grandson on the way back. Jess tried not to look sheepish or give cause to question his motives so instead, he tried to think like Franklin.

"Just thinking about the court case," he muttered as though it didn't matter to him either way. "I assumed you'd want me to be going there so it looks good." He shrugged but was glad to see Franklin mulling it over. His conversation with Sheriff Conibear suddenly flashed through Jess' mind: the man had insisted Franklin have him registered in the local high school before the week was up and Jess was beginning to wonder how much Conibear suspected. For the time being, Jess decided to continue to keep his conversation with the sheriff to himself.

"That's a good point," Franklin said softly to himself then to Jess, he remarked: "You're right. I'll have to get on to that before the hearing." He beamed at Jess who, in turn, felt a small moment of triumph. "Good thinking, Jess. I'm very pleased to see that you're coming around." Jess tried to nod, even though the very sentiment made him want to run screaming from the car. But having Franklin on his side was a must, the young man realised. After driving through the gates, his grandfather rumbled to a stop and then unbuckled his seatbelt. Jess, having never buckled up to begin with, took that as his cue to open his door and step outside.

As Jess hastily made to put some distance between the two of them, he headed to the front door not looking behind him until his grandfather's voice stopped him. Jess turned to see the old man smiling. "I told you Jess," he called over to him moving out from behind the car, "all you needed was a little time to adjust." Jess felt sick. He couldn't reply without causing offence so didn't bother trying.

The boy turned to go when the sight of one of Franklin's men hurrying past him and over to his grandfather made Jess pause. The way the man had looked at him as he'd passed, a mixture of loathing and fear made Jess curious. Slowly, Jess began edging up the steps leading to the front door then paused to peer out around the edge of the porch to where the man stopped in front of his grandfather.

"I'm sorry, sir!" the man panted. Franklin's demeanour was suddenly several degrees colder. _Sorry?_ Jess thought. _Sorry for what?_

"I lost track of him, Mr. Mariano. I didn't know he was out!" For a second, Franklin held up a hand to quiet him and glanced about. Not seeing Jess listening by the porch, Franklin was apparently satisfied they would not be overheard. Jess felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but feel like the topic under discussion.

Franklin appeared to casually check the time on his watch then pull down the cuffs on his crisp white shirt. "I thought I had made myself clear," he remarked, calmly. If anything, the hired help seemed to grow paler.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "It won't happen again." Jess took note of the man's shaking hands, the sweat on his brow on such a brisk day and the pale tinge to his skin: the poor guy was _terrified_. But for the life of him, Jess could not work out why.

* * *

Chapter 21 is on the way. Thank you for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

Fire and Ice – Chapter 21

Standard disclaimer applies.

Not too long a wait this time and the next chapter is half way there! It's got an end in sight now – woo hoo! I realise how dreadful I've been lately but I really hope people are still enjoying this.

* * *

The clock in his room read three o'clock so Jess wasn't surprised when he heard the knock on his door and a maid inform him that his grandfather wanted him to get dressed. With a deep sigh, Jess pulled himself off the bed and opened the wardrobe door, tugging his newly bought suit off the hanger and tossing it behind him onto the rumpled covers of the bed.

He spun slowly on his heel, turning to face the sharply tailored charcoal suit. If he had ever imagined himself wearing a suit, it would be one like this: smooth, sophisticated, modern. He glared at the expensive material lying there as though it represented the sum of all his troubles. In less than two hours it would be a done deal, signed and sealed. For the next year he would be cemented into this new life with the old man. The curtains moved slightly from the breeze through his open window and Jess turned to the movement.

Strictly speaking it was still too cold for open windows but God, Jess needed the movement of air, particularly given his recent confinement. He moved to the window and slid it all the way up, gazing out at the expanse of world outside. The urge to flee was swift and passing: where would he go? How far would he get and more importantly, what would happen to Luke if he failed to go through with his end of the bargain?

Determination set in – the kind of determination that came over people when they realise it's do or die, sink or swim. You grit your teeth and get it over with. What's one year out of the rest of his life? He could learn to live with this – make the best out of it. After all, he could have been back with Liz and her drunken, drugged up boyfriends in New York. There were worse places to be in. He carded his fingers roughly through his tousled hair and, for a moment, his fingers gripped and tugged at the roots as his eyes filled up with unshed tears. He stayed there like that, frozen, as still as a statue just staring out at the world and the precious few held within it that he actually gave a damn about.

Then Jess closed the window and put on the suit.

* * *

The ride to the court house took a little under forty minutes. Jess sat in the backseat SUV next to Franklin, playing with a loose thread on the corner of his jacket cuff. He twirled the thread through his fingers, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor. Beside him, Franklin merely watched the scenery passing by. He too was dressed in a classic suit, his mane of white hair neatly set back into a pony tail. He had spent the last few hours going over details with his legal team and then briefing Jess on what he was to say – which it turns out, was to be very little. Now it seemed there was nothing left to do but play it out. Confidence was oozing from every pore in the man's body.

Franklin reached over and caught Jess' hand. A question in the boy's eyes met with no verbal response. Instead, Franklin took a firm hold of the thread and snapped it off. He rolled the thread into a ball, wound the window down and tossed it outside. "Just remember what you've been told, Jess," he remarked, "and you'll do fine."

The teenager's throat was tight and his mouth was dry: he couldn't speak so he settled for nodding once. Hoping to distract himself from his nerves, Jess glanced out of his own window but instead of the scenery, all he caught was his own reflection. A stranger stared back at him – a cultured, tamed boy he didn't recognise. Well that was okay, Jess suddenly decided. No, it was more than okay: it was _good_. The old him, the _real_ him – he'd leave him with Luke, in a cramped, ramshackle apartment, sitting on a mattress with a folded paperback in his hands. This new Jess, the hollow one, the _pretend_ one – _he_ belonged with Franklin.

Franklin grinned and took advantage of the open window to light up another cigar, its little red and yellow design band now very familiar to Jess as his grandfather seemed to smoke them like a chimney: _specially imported_ – like that was meant to impress him? Jess pointedly turned his head away from the plumes of smoke and edged further towards his side of the car, opening the window a crack.

"Did you get that school thing sorted out?" Jess asked, hoping he wasn't sounding too interested.

The old man nodded. "All taken care of." He patted the leather document folder by his feet. "Got all the documents I need here."

Jess eyed the bag warily but simply offered an, "Okay." At least that was one hurdle overcome.

The old man chuckled then inhaled deeply.

* * *

It's amazing how quickly and effortlessly the most significant events in your life can transpire. There should be a series of interruptions, moments of consternation and triple-checking, of summations and objections. Someone was meant to come skidding in to the middle of proceedings, slow everything down from the tick of the clock to the scribble of the pens and force the players to see what was transpiring step by step – _make_ _them_ take notice of how everything was about to change.

But of course, no-one does that; not in real life.

Family Court was unassuming both in its neutral tones and décor and in the formality of its procedures. It was everything it ought to be: legal, efficient, simple. The furniture was arranged more like a conference room than a court room. The questions were plain and mostly directed at Franklin and his lawyers. Paperwork was exchanged, boxes ticked: Could he be financially provided for? Did he have his mother's consent? What about health care? Living arrangements? Education?

Before he knew what had happened, Jess' own signature was on the dotted line, the date already filled in beside it and Franklin Mariano was leading him out of the court, this time with papers granting him permanent physical custody.

* * *

"Well done, sir!" Their lawyer, a man called Stapleson, clapped Franklin on the shoulder as the men shook hands outside the courthouse. There were other members of Franklin's legal team present but they, having a lesser role in proceedings, simple hung back allowing their top dog to reap the rewards of a case well done.

"Thank you for all your help," Franklin replied, another cigar already between his grinning lips. "It all went smoothly." He offered one to Stapleson who politely refused. The atmosphere was celebratory but Jess couldn't help standing aside from the whole thing, watching like a distant spectator. For that matter, he might as well have been, being all but ignored by the self-congratulatory party in-front of him.

It was done. Jess looked around him – the trees, sidewalks, citizens and buildings: this was his life then? He noticed the High School across the street – average sized, white-washed, no football field evident but a large building to the rear seemed to proudly display a sign boasting of the school's prowess in basketball. Of course, Jess realised, there were many schools and he had no idea which one his grandfather had enrolled him in. He made a mental note to check that.

Jess glanced up when he noticed a shadow fall across his path. One of his grandfather's legal team – Mannings, the man who had guided him through the proceedings – was standing in front of him, actually acknowledging his presence. Jess returned at least the courtesy of eye-contact. As far as lawyers went, Mannings wasn't too bad, he supposed. Maybe that's what came from still being the 'little fish' in a big ocean?

"Congratulations," he offered. Jess was starting to feel like someone had won the lottery or had a baby. What exactly did anyone have to be thankful for?

"Huh," he replied, tugging at his tie and undoing the top buttons on his shirt. Mannings began to reach in to the bag he was carrying.

"Now that the guardianship is official," he started to say, "we should really meet up as soon as possible to discuss the _other matter_." Even as Jess narrowed his eyes in confusion, he could see Mannings withdraw from the bag a fairly large yellow envelope.

"What other matter?" Jess questioned. Was it something to do with the papers Franklin had promised for Luke? And if so, why were they being given to _him_? But before he could even reach for the envelope, a large, talon-like hand snatched it out of Manning's hold.

"Thank you, Mr. Mannings," Franklin all but hissed. "_I'll_ take that."

"But Sir," he started to protest. However, Franklin cut him off, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and guiding him back towards the shoal of his legal group.

"It's alright," Frank insisted firmly. "As his legal guardian, I'll deal with that." Then he hastily folded the letter and slid it securely into the inside of his jacket pocket. Mannings looked unconvinced, glancing back over to where Jess still stood, staring after them suspiciously. He was quickly carried away by his own employers, however, once they saw Franklin leading him towards them. They moved the young lawyer aside, speaking to him in hushed yet firm tones.

Immediately, Franklin walked back over to Jess and grabbed a hold of his elbow, tugging him along after him. Jess stumbled in his effort to catch up. "Car's here," Franklin announced, just as the vehicle pulled up in-front of them. Before he could utter more than an annoyed exclamation, he was bundled in to the car, Franklin moving in to sit beside him.

"What was that?" Jess questioned, as soon as his grandfather was next to him.

"Nothing," he replied. The car pulled away and Franklin began to relax again, leaning forward to the driver to exchange a brief instruction. The driver nodded in response to whatever had been said.

But Jess wasn't satisfied. "Was that letter for me?" Franklin looked at him, hard:

"It's legal business, Jess. I deal with that. Now you just forget about it. You did good in there. Now you can relax." He patted the teenager on the knee.

Jess narrowed his eyes, shifting in his seat as he undid his tie the rest of the way and pulled it off. "And Luke?"

His grandfather sighed. "You're persistent, aren't you?" Jess gave no answer. "The papers are at home," Franklin acquiesced. "I'll have them dispatched when we get back." He turned away from his grandson, content to let the matter rest.

"I want to see them."

"You'll see whatever I damned well say you can!"

The outburst was so sudden and intense that Jess actually flinched, drawing back, his eyes wide. The teenager hated to be reminded of how small he actually was but it was times like these where years of conditioning kicked in.

To his left, Franklin was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath and then turned back to his grandson. "We'll have us a nice dinner tonight," he reminded Jess. "Maybe break out the wine? It is a special occasion, after all."

Jess' eyes were fixed on his lap, willing his cheeks not to burn. Mutely, he nodded.

"Then I'll drop you off in town. Got anywhere you'd like to go?" Jess shook his head. Then a thought occurred to him. His voice still came out smaller than he liked it:

"That school across from the courthouse?" he asked. "Bloomfield High? Is that the one I'm down for?" Jess watched as Franklin leaned back in his seat making his presence bigger.

"School would be no use with you, Jess," the man remarked, casually. Instantly, Jess sat up straighter, staring accusingly at his grandfather.

"But you told the judge I was registered!" he shot back. Franklin merely raised one eyebrow, both at Jess' assumption and as a silent warning to check his tone.

With great effort, Jess saw the gesture for what it was and fought hard to reign his anger back in.

"I never said you would be in school," the old man clarified. "I think you've more than proven you don't get on in a place like that. And besides," he added, "someone with a brain as sharp as yours would be wasted in there."

Jess had a bad feeling about this. "So what's happening then?"

Franklin smiled. "I've hired you a private tutor," he explained, much to Jess' horror.

"You what!" Jess was almost speechless.

"A tutor," he repeated. "He'll come to the house five days a week. He's been a family friend for many years and happens to be extremely well qualified. We were lucky to get him," Franklin added. "Friend or not, he doesn't come cheap so don't you go wasting time and slacking off."

Jess folded his arms tightly across his torso and glowered across at his grandfather. "What the _hell_?" he demanded, angrily

"Hey!" his grandfather cautioned him, sharply, a finger pointed in his direction. Jess ignored it.

"Do you know how hard it is to stay focused even with a room full of students? How am I supposed to get through every lesson with just me and the damned teacher? He's going to be watching everything I do like a damned hawk!" He kicked the empty seat in-front of him. "Thanks a lot!" Jess spat. He surprised himself by actually _not being_ surprised when Franklin quickly reached across the car and slapped him.

"Check your tone and your language, boy!" his grandfather admonished in a low voice. Jess said nothing but his gaze lowered to his lap even as his arms continued to be wrapped tightly across his chest. Franklin took his silence for an acknowledgement and seemed finished with the correction.

The matter dropped, they continued the journey back to the house in silence. It was only later that evening that Jess realised: with all the anger he'd felt at being placed in a position where it would be nearly impossible to slack off from his lessons, even for a minute he had completely ignored the other outcome of his private tutoring: once again he would _not_ be leaving the house.

* * *

Dinner was a long, drawn out affair – at least it seemed that way to Jess. His aunt and cousins, having apparently been informed of Franklin's intentions to bring Jess home from his travels had not been surprised when they came back from their trip to find a strange, taciturn teenage boy in the house only a few short days ago. Nor however, were they particularly thrilled.

Jess glanced up from his untouched plate of lemon chicken to his Aunt Miranda, across the table. She was a tall woman, stocky, broad shoulders and a sweeping mass of ginger hair, pulled back into a barrette. She had a pair of piggy, close-set eyes and nose slightly too small for her face. Whenever she looked at her new nephew it was with a mixture of disinterest and disgust: it had been the expression she wore when she first met him and the expression she habitually brought out whenever they happened to cross paths, since.

Not that it happened often. Either she or Jess usually engineered that.

Diana and Melissa were his cousins: smaller build, fair hair, mousy expressions. Jess could only assume they took after their absent father though the image that conjured up of the man made Jess shudder when he considered the pairing with their mother. He couldn't quite figure the girls out. They were older than him, ever so slightly. Diana was at her third year in an out-of-state college though somehow found the time to visit with alarming frequency. Jess couldn't decide which college would have accepted her on academic status so decided she must have bought her way in.

Melissa was a freshman at a local college and spent most days looking as though she were about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jess instinctively pitied her roommate. He glanced across to where Melissa now sat to his right, staring at him with a slightly vacant, slightly dreamy expression.

He fixed her with a hard glare, designed to ward her off. Instead she placed her chin on her hand and continued to stare at him:

"Are we _really_ related?" The girl gave a wistful smile and edged her chair inches closer to her cousin. Jess rolled his eyes.

"Don't take it personally," he advised her. "I know I try not to." Having sufficiently confused Melissa, Jess turned back to his untouched meal and silently willed it to be over.

* * *

The evening crowd at the diner was in full swing. Luke's pencil never rested behind his ear for longer than a minute before he was using it to take another order. It didn't help that the Stars Hollow annual Spring Festival was just drawing to a close in the park opposite, the crowds deciding to prolong their day out and pile into the diner before heading back to their houses. Bags of shopping and over-sized stuffed animals forced chairs to be spaced further apart and Luke had to almost hold his breath to weave his way between the narrow gaps between tables.

'_I really need to hire some extra help around here'_, Luke thought grimly. So far the need hadn't arisen but Luke couldn't kid himself for ever. He slapped a burger and fries down in front of another eager customer with less pleasantries than normal and then fought his way back towards the kitchen for the next table's order. Sighing heavily, Luke eyed the front window of the store already envisaging the sign he was going to have to make that night and display the next day.

"Luke!" Caesar's voice barely carried across the general din from where he stood by the phone, receiver in his hand. Luke glanced over, momentarily annoyed that his cook was out of the kitchen on such a hectic night as this – the phone could wait.

"Luke!" he called again. Luke edged a little nearer as Caesar continued. "Some guy on the phone for you. I think he says his name is Conibear."

_Conibear_? Assuming he'd heard the name correctly, Luke quickly ran it through his memory. Nothing familiar came up and he didn't have time to start scouring through address books.

Another crowd of people pushed open the diner's door and Luke groaned: was common sense in short supply today, he wondered? Where on earth did these people assume they were going to _sit_?

"Don't know him," Luke called back, irritably. "Get a number will you? I'll call him back." Caesar nodded and Luke assumed relayed his message because by the time he'd grabbed the plates of food at the pass, Caesar was already back in the kitchen.

* * *

It had taken a lot of convincing but finally Franklin had relented and allowed Jess to walk into town, rather than dropping him off.

"I'll pick you up in two hours," he'd informed him. "At nine." Jess had glanced down at his watch and nodded. There wouldn't be much still open at this time but with any luck, he might find a theatre or a café. Franklin had given him a parting remark to keep his coat done up – the weather was looking stormy – and then strolled back inside the house, shutting the door. Jess then saw the man's bedroom light come on upstairs. Franklin often sat up there for hours, reading, watching television, enjoying the solitude.

Eagerly, Jess made his way over to the gates but then suddenly stopped short. Something had grabbed his attention. He turned to see what it was better. Around the side of the house, curtains were flapping through an open window on the ground floor. Jess took a couple of steps forward, trying to work out the room. Then it hit him: his grandfather's study.

Jess walked up to the window and peered in to the darkened room. The gates were quickly forgotten as Jess' mind turned back to the yellow envelope and the _other matters_ that Mannings had talked about. On their return home that afternoon, Jess was sure he'd seen Franklin go directly to his study. It was where he stored all his private documents.

Just _what_ was in that damned envelope? It had to have something to do with him – maybe even Luke? Didn't he have a right to know? Cautiously, looking around to check no one was watching, Jess pushed the window up, placed his hands on the sill and pushed himself into the room. He landed quietly, just behind his grandfather's polished mahogany desk.

It was very dimly lit inside from a distant hall light spilling under the closed door. A small desk lamp was nearby. Jess held his breath and glanced at the door, prepared to dart back through the open window if he heard anyone approach but for now, the coast seemed clear. He decided to risk turning on the desk lamp: it wasn't too bright and would illuminate little more than the desk before him.

The study was immaculate – nothing out of place, no piles of papers to sort through but Jess had a good instinct for hiding places. He tried the deep bottom draw of the desk: it was locked. Reaching over to the stationary tray on the desk top, he removed a slender metal letter opener and set to work on the lock. It opened far too easily. For such a private man, Franklin needed to seriously upgrade his security, Jess mused.

Fingers shaking just fractionally, Jess moved aside the top layer of papers from the drawer and found the yellow envelope staring invitingly back at him. He exhaled, sharply. Could it really have been that easy?

Carefully, Jess removed the envelope and slid it open. The seal had already been broken. Jess' heart began to beat a little faster. He pulled the letter out and saw it was several pages thick with another legal looking document attached. The boy's eyes narrowed and he moved closer to the light to see properly. Scanning the pages, Jess noticed his name, printed clearly in bold letters, somewhere near the top of the page in the body of the text.

He didn't immediately recognise what kind of a legal document this was and the legal jargon was still something his brain was getting used to deciphering. However, Jess was getting the impression that it didn't resemble the custody papers he was used to seeing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jess dropped the letter, his heart skipping a beat and his eyes shot up, scouring the darkened room for the source of the cold, hard voice.

Two shapes moved out of the shadows, the office door now opened but before Jess could respond, he felt himself wrenched savagely away from the desk and slammed up against the wall behind him. He cried out sharply as his back impacted on the hard plaster, feeling the wind knocked out of him and his lungs gasp desperately for air. In the next instant, not giving him time to catch his breath, Jess could feel large vice-like hands grip his arm and spin him round to face the wall.

This time, his face slammed against the glass of a framed certificate and Jess felt blood start to pour from his nose. There wasn't time to wonder if it was broken. He tried to speak but a hand now pushed him hard in the centre of his back, pinning him to the wall and making it impossible to breath. As one hand pushed at him, the other held his right arm out straight and yanked backwards.

Jess heard the awful wrenching, popping sound at just about the same moment that he heard himself scream.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Hope you're enjoying it and would love to hear your thoughts.


	22. Chapter 22

Fire and Ice – Chapter 22

Standard disclaimer applies

Author's note: warning for mildish cursing in this chapter. Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to leave me a review :)

Please enjoy!

* * *

The pain enveloped him and, for just a split second, it felt a little good to lose himself in something so completely. It didn't last long though. A moment later and Jess was dry heaving, his shoulders and chest wrenching upwards – the added pressure that put on his shoulder only made it more excruciating. Spots danced before his eyes as panic took a hold of his senses: _not again_, he thought in desperation. _No matter where he ran to or how far he made it, why could he never be free of this_?

"Let me…let me go," he wheezed, forcing air to trickle slowly into his lungs. His shoulder throbbed and blazed white-hot as though it had been stuck in a furnace. Dimly, Jess recognised the simple logistics that his right arm now extended several inches longer than his left. Futilely, he tried to kick back against the figure, still pinning him face-first to the wall. He turned his face as hard as he could to the side, avoiding contact with his busted nose for as much as possible.

The overhead light flicked on and his eyes reactively screwed shut. Just when Jess thought he was going to have to beg, the strong arms spun him back around and pushed him, this time a little more gently, against the wall. Tentatively, Jess opened his eyes, relieved that the spots were gone. His head was still buzzing and spinning but Jess knew from experience that was more from adrenaline and fear than from the physical blow.

The hand that had been holding him to the wall now retracted, its owner stepping back, folding his arms across his chest. Next to him was the second man. For a few seconds more, their outlines shimmered and circled round and round before finally settling into solid form. The man who had held him, Jess couldn't recall his name, his face one of the many he had seen: a distant memory connected him with the same man who had barred his exit the day his grandfather had burnt his books.

The second man, Jess could hardly have forgotten but in a moment of rare clarity, Jess saw something else flash beneath his grandfather's skin. The old man suddenly didn't seem so old any more. Franklin took a step towards Jess who had instinctively cradled his arm to his side. The flow of blood from his nose was beginning to dry up.

"Jess?" Franklin asked, his voice silken and low. "What are you doing in my private study?" Jess couldn't answer straight away. Now that his arms were back by his side and the pressure on his ribs was gone, he doubled over slightly, breathing hard. Finally, as his grandfather waited for an answer, he managed to gasp:

"Nothing. I swear."

"Nothing?" Franklin stepped forward and placed a careful, light hand on Jess' limp right shoulder. Jess recoiled instantly, shooting backwards into the wall with a renewed howl of pain. Franklin cocked his head, contemplating the boy's answer. He then ran a gentle hand through Jess' hair and carefully down his face, making sure to avoid his nose. Shaking his head regrettably, Franklin took out his handkerchief and started to wipe away some of the blood on the side of his face as though cleaning the dinner off the face of a messy child. Jess would have moved his head back but there was nowhere else to go. "I'm sorry about all this," Franklin said, softly. "But when we saw someone breaking in, I'm afraid Hammond reacted as he is trained to do."

Jess briefly switched his focus from the old man to Hammond who merely regarded Jess without apparent hostility or remorse. "Now, you must understand Jess," his grandfather continued, still gently swiping at the rivulets of blood, "that the room was dark. Before we realised who it was, I'm afraid the damage was done." He paused in his ministrations a moment. "Of course, if it had been any one _else_…well, the damage would have been much more severe." He gave a small, reassuring laugh which made Jess feebly want to cry. "But, since it's _you_." Franklin left it there and then brought the cloth back up to his grandson's broken face.

The pain in his arm was intensifying, almost unbearable and Jess began to wonder if he would be let out of the mansion long enough for treatment. Surely Franklin could see it was dislocated, if not broken? Couldn't he tell how much pain he was in? Then again, Jess had quickly become adept at covering pain, or at least the signs of it.

Still, Franklin didn't appear to want him to move yet. Jess stayed exactly where he was. The blood was starting to dry and itch. "Now, Jess. This was, of course, an unfortunate misadventure. Teenagers are naturally curious and you, above all, have a keen mind that likes to seek out answers to puzzles." He patted him gently on the cheek. "I encourage inquisitiveness." Then the voice sharpened. "Within the limits of my rules and respect for personal property."

Bile was rising in Jess' throat. The boy didn't want to think what vomiting on his grandfather would cost him, not to mention the discomfort it would bring so with supreme will power, he pushed all thoughts of sickness aside and struggled to focus on his grandfather: not the pain, not the blood but the man who was standing in front of him, tenderly cleaning up the mess.

Franklin was smiling once more. "So tell me. What was it that could entice you away from a night on the town and into breaking in to my desk draw, hmm?" Jess had his breathing more or less under control and so took a deep, shaky breath. He knew better than to ask about his arm. Not till the old man got answers.

Jess resisted the urge to look down at the letter now lying on the floor. "I thought," he began, quietly. "I thought it was something to do with Luke." Franklin raised his eyebrows but appeared to accept the answer.

"Luke?" he queried. "In what way?" Jess instinctively went to shrug but stopped himself just in time.

"You talked about those papers to clear Luke's name," Jess explained. "I was getting worried you didn't have them. I thought it might have something to do with it." He hung his head onto his chest – his skull was pounding and keeping his head up was costing him.

Despite the blood soaking it, Franklin folded his handkerchief back up and pocketed it, seemingly un-phased by the fact. "But I assured you I had them," he pointed out, mildly.

Jess looked away. "I didn't trust you," he mumbled, anything to be allowed to leave the room. "Sorry."

His grandfather nodded, perhaps in approval? "And what about the letter you found?" he questioned. "Do you think it was what you were looking for?"

Jess knew enough to be generous with the truth. "I didn't have time to read it. I don't know." There was a wait as Franklin considered his story. Then, without a word, Franklin retrieved the papers from the floor and slid them back into their envelope. Jess tracked his movements, cautiously. He moved to a filing cabinet, opened it and after leafing through a small section pulled out a file. Then he returned and opened it for Jess to inspect.

The boy couldn't make out much but Luke's name was clearly printed on the first one. He caught glimpses of the word 'Dismissal' and other phrases that did indeed sound as though the planned proceedings were being called off. Despite the pain he was in, Jess' heart almost leapt when he saw them. At the very least, some good came out of this.

Seeing he had read enough, Franklin closed the file and placed it on his desk. "You can mail it to him tomorrow, if you like. I'll drop you at the Post Office myself."

Jess nodded, weakly. Aware that politeness was the way forward, he added a quiet: "Thanks."

"Now," Franklin started abruptly, clapping his hands once. The mood was apparently lighter now. "It looks as though you've hurt your arm." Jess could have wept in relief. Finally! He turned to his employee. "Hammond, go see if you can get Doctor Wilkins on the phone. Bob owes me a house call, I'm sure he won't mind." Hammond nodded and quickly left.

A sort of confused dread began to creep into Jess' mind as Franklin calmly led him to sit at the chair by his desk. "But," Jess started to protest but Franklin gently shushed him.

"Now, now," he coaxed. "I've been around a few injuries in my time and this looks like a dislocated shoulder if ever I saw one." Before Jess knew it, Franklin had taken his right arm firmly around the bicep. Even as Jess' head began to vigorously shake and his lips started to form the word _no_, his grandfather had already pushed his arm up and in. For the second time that night, Jess screamed.

* * *

When Jess awoke the next morning wrapped securely in soft blankets, he felt sunlight streaming in through his window. His mind was still fuzzy from the events of last night and coupled with the strong pain killers Doctor Wilkins had prescribed for him his brain felt cocooned in a net of safety. For just a moment he cushioned himself in the last few moments of slumber where the world couldn't touch him. Then he rolled over onto his right side and woke instantly with a startled, strangled cry.

He felt pain ricochet down his arm and across his collar bone and with a tired moan, Jess rolled flat onto his back once more. He lay there for a second or two longer as his sharp, hitched breathing evened out into a gentle and calm pattern. The pain was still agonising. He glanced over to the bottle of painkillers, sitting by his bed. Gingerly, Jess raised a hand to feel the surgical tape securing the bridge of his nose. God, he hoped the swelling had gone down since last night.

But the doctor hadn't been too concerned with it. His arm he had immobilised in a sling and advised him not to use it until he had been checked over again. Apparently, full recovery could take months. He'd advised an X-Ray, Jess' intense pain making him concerned about further trauma to the scapula and humerus. But his advice had gone unheeded. Jess' breathing had also concerned him and he'd spent far longer than Franklin had been happy with, tapping Jess' chest and listening carefully to the response with his stethoscope. Something bothered the doctor and he had written out a good two pages of notes, handing them to Franklin. They had exchanged an escalating conversation, ending only when a reluctant Wilkins had been escorted from the mansion.

Jess had been too out of it to track the evening's events properly but he thought he recalled the guilty, regrettable expression he had seen on the doctor's face as the man had walked past his room on his way out.

With a deep sigh, Jess sat up, swung his legs round the side of the bed and pushed himself up standing. He swayed slightly as his head began to clear. He walked over to the bottle by the bed and scanned the label. Not certain what time he was given his last dose, Jess couldn't judge whether it was safe to take a second. However, he wasn't about to take a vote on it: he needed his pain manageable.

After gulping down two pills with a swig of dusty water from the glass by his bed, Jess very carefully got dressed. His reflection in the mirror was not as horrific as Jess had feared. Though the side of his face now sported a black and purple bruise, the swelling in his nose had visibly reduced, the cut across its bridge looking ugly but healing well.

He readjusted the sling across his arm, testing the height so that his shoulder rested as comfortably and securely as it could. As his senses returned to him, Jess was overcome with the need to make the call he had previously been dreading. But now, when that familiar sense of dread crept back into his life there was only one person he longed to talk to: the man who he betrayed and the only one who could calm his fears – the only one he would even admit them to.

Jess' carryall lay in the bottom of his wardrobe. As yet, only a handful of clothes had been unpacked from it: the rest were still crumpled at the bottom. Jess removed it and rather awkwardly shook it out over his bed. A selection of t-shirts and a pair of jeans tumbled out and Jess started to rummage through them, searching for the item he had shoved in the bag after his first day. However, his search came up empty. Jess frowned. He was certain he had dropped his cell phone back into his bag but it wasn't among the folds of his clothes.

To be sure, he reached in and ran one hand along the lining, checking any inside pockets it might have slipped in to. His hand came out empty. The boy's heart started thumping more noticeably in his chest. Quickly he scoured the rest of the room – drawers, wardrobe, bed, the pockets of all clothing he had worn since arrival: nothing. With purposeful strides, Jess made his way down stairs to the laundry room. Several baskets of clean laundry were waiting to be sorted but a glance told him none of them were his. The machines stood empty.

Damn it! Noticing a phone on the laundry wall, Jess hastily ran to it and removed it from its cradle: calling Luke from here would be just as good, providing he wasn't overheard by anyone. However, Jess' heart sunk when he looked for the dial pad and realised it was an internal phone only: kitchens, library, lobby. All the same, he checked for an outside dial tone only to have his suspicions confirmed. Slamming it back into its cradle, Jess stalked off in search of his grandfather.

Taking the stairs up to the main floor, two at a time, Jess quickly came across the old man as he exited the breakfast room, newspaper in hand. He looked up and smiled when he saw Jess approach, not especially concerned with the scowl knotting his grandson's forehead together in the middle.

"Where's my phone?" Jess demanded as he drew nearer. Franklin seemed to sidestep the question.

"Jess. How are you feeling this morning?"

"_Where's my phone_?" he repeated more forcefully. He planted himself in front of his grandfather and wrapped one arm across his stomach staring at the old man with an unwavering glare.

Franklin blinked in surprise. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Jess," he assured him. "Isn't it in your room?"

"Would I be asking you if it _was_?" Jess snapped. His grandfather thought for a moment.

"Have you checked your pockets? Checked the laundry?" Jess got the clear impression he was being played.

"_Yes_," he ground out through gritted teeth. But Franklin merely shook his head.

"Then I'm sorry, Jess. I have no idea. Why do you think that I would?" Jess opened his mouth to tell him _exactly_ why he thought so: that he didn't trust him; that he seemed to know every move Jess made; that _something_ was going on that no-one was telling him about; that he nearly broke his God damned arm last night for looking in his study. But in the cold light of reality, none of his hysterical accusations seemed sensible to voice out loud. At least, not yet. He wanted to talk to Luke first: have his uncle reassure him that everything was fine, that he had nothing to worry about, that he was safe.

Finally, Jess lowered his gaze a fraction. "You seem to know everything that goes on around here," he muttered. Franklin gave a short laugh.

"It only seems that way, Jess. You're still settling in – things are bound to feel a bit strange to start with." Then he clapped Jess lightly on the back. "Breakfast?" he asked, brightly. Frowning, Jess shook his head though a part of his brain was telling him the pain killers would need food if they were going to be effective. If he were back in Stars Hollow, Luke would have _insisted_ on breakfast – physically trundled him over to the table, sat him down and pointedly put the knife and fork in his hands. The fingers of his right hand began to toy with the material of his sling. Jess didn't think he would ever argue against Luke's instructions again if only he were still around to dish them out. But Franklin merely nodded.

"Very well then. Don't worry about your phone - I'm sure it will turn up." Then he pointed to the landline in the entrance hall. "You're welcome to use the house phone of course." Jess almost laughed: did he look _that_ dumb? There was hardly a time, day or night, when someone wasn't passing by that phone ready to eavesdrop in on his conversation. Asking if there was a second phone somewhere in the house would raise too many suspicions but Jess assumed there must be somewhere. It was perhaps something to investigate?

So he declined his grandfather's offer. "No. Thanks. I don't need to call anyone."

"Then come into the drawing room. I have those papers for your uncle ready to go." He paused for a second to gauge Jess' reaction. "You _do_ still want to mail them off today, don't you?" Hope sprang back to Jess' eyes and he nodded, earnestly. "Well then," Franklin went on, "you'd better put your shoes on and grab your coat. I'll see you in there in," he glanced at his watch, "shall we say five minutes?"

Jess' watch was still sitting on his bedside table so he stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. "Fine," he agreed, softly. As Franklin turned to head in to the drawing room however, he turned back to his grandson, a thought occurring to him:

"Is five minutes going to be enough time, Jess?" Seeing the young man's puzzled expression, he clarified with a sympathetic smile. "I mean with your recent handicap. Will you be alright with the laces?"

Jess narrowed his eyes and looked away, his lip curling. He'd taken plenty of knocks in his relatively short time growing up – he was used to them: but he'd never had endure blind ignorance and false sympathy before. Liz's boyfriends may have taken great delights in beating the living daylights out of him but at least they didn't have the gall to pretend it never happened! It made him burn with anger in the pit of his stomach. Without a word, Jess turned away from his grandfather and ran back to his room.

Once there he shut the door and quickly retrieved a sheet of paper from the notepad in his desk. Sitting down at the desk, he took out a pen and hastily scribbled down a fraction of what he wanted to say:

_May have misjudged this – badly. Need help._

Jess' pen hesitated over the page as he weighed his pride against his heart. Finally he scrawled a brief: _Miss you_ to the end of the note. He quickly read the note back, satisfied that it didn't sound _too_ needy or dramatic should the whole worry turn out to be little more than his overactive imagination.

That done, he folded the paper and slid it into his jeans pocket. Then, with a grimace, he set to the now complicated task of putting on his sneakers.

* * *

When he met his grandfather in the drawing room, Jess immediately noticed a large brown envelope sitting on a table. He surreptitiously felt the note in his pocket. Franklin was sitting by the table and beckoned him over. As Jess moved to sit in the chair next to him, his mind was wondering how to slip the note in without being seen. Franklin handed him the envelope and Jess was at least glad to see it wasn't sealed.

"Would you like to take a quick look through it?" the old man offered. Wordlessly and just a little surprised Jess nodded, pulling out the sheaf of papers. With more time to look through them and without the trauma of a head injury to contend with the papers made more sense and the more Jess read, the lighter his mind became. They did everything Franklin had promised him they would: remove any suspicion or legal action against his uncle and drop any pending proceedings. Though Jess could never forget that Franklin had been the _cause_ of all these troubles in the first place he still could not ignore the fact that his grandfather had followed through with his promise.

At that moment, his grandfather's cell phone began to ring. Looking apologetically at the young man, Franklin covered the mouthpiece for a moment as he spoke to him: "I just need to take this but I won't be long. Are you alright for a minute?" Jess tried to look bored rather than delighted.

"Peachy," he answered. Franklin smiled and got up to move aside.

"Seal it up when you're done," he instructed and then quickly moved to the doorway to take his call. Jess was starting to think that Fate only worked for the Dark Side but he now realised that it could, very occasionally, swing both ways. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder: Franklin was engaged in his conversation, alternately turning to look in to the room and out into the hallway. Jess discretely removed the note from his pocket and with fumbling fingers, slotted it carefully between the legal sheets of paper. He didn't dare risk a look back at his grandfather for fear of rousing his suspicions.

Instead, Jess carefully sealed the envelope then replaced it on the table. It seemed such an alien concept in this day and age, to wait for a response in this way but email was still a realm of the modern world that Jess had been trying to introduce Luke to before he had left. Still, with any luck he and Luke may have shared a conversation before the note even _arrived_ in Stars Hollow. Jess just needed to get to a phone. Swiping his grandfather's cell phone was not beneath him at this point though the events of only a few hours ago had taught Jess a valuable lesson about messing with his grandfather's belongings. It was not a bridge he wanted to cross again so soon unless necessity absolutely dictated it.

"Jess?" Franklin stepped back into the room, his conversation over. "Come on then. Grab that envelope and let's go." Jess grabbed the envelope off the table and followed Franklin out of the room, clutching it to his chest with the fervent hope that it contained not only his uncle's redemption but his own as well.

* * *

The sun shone brightly that day in Stars Hollow. Luke had risen early to unload the deliveries scheduled that morning and then made a start on the 'Help' sign. It wasn't in the window yet but Luke had plans to put it up later that day: just a few fine print details he wanted to work out first. As the first customers had milled in for breakfast and the rest of the morning had worn on, Luke couldn't help but stare out at the park opposite.

Spring was definitely in the air and the world seemed…fresher, lighter. Luke never found himself taking note of the seasons as they passed him by but today it made him pause to think. Was the sun shining in Nebraska? Would he find Jess outside reading a book under a tree? Or walking through the streets, stopping to have a coffee outside a little café? Maybe Jess had found a friend there? Hopefully not someone who was going to be a bad influence on him (like he needed any of those!) but someone he could connect with? Luke hardly dared to think it, but maybe even a nice girl? Someone actually _available_?

With the morning customers gone and Caesar due in any moment to start working on the lunch prep, Luke took a break from resetting the tables and stocking the condiments. Walking over to the counter, he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at one of the bar stools. It was then that a message on a torn-off order pad caught his attention. It had been tucked underneath the corner of the cash register. Leaning over the top of the counter, Luke carefully pulled it out and unfolded it.

A phone number was scribbled down on it and a name printed in Caesar's semi-legible handwriting: CONIBEAR

Luke suddenly recalled his missed phone call from last night. _Conibear_? Luke thought again now that his head was clearer. Nope – still didn't ring any bells. He got up to head to the phone by the counter and then hesitated. This could be nothing more than a stupid sales pitch. What kind of a sucker would that make him to actually call a salesman back? But then, he reasoned, they didn't tend to leave numbers. He wavered a moment more. It might be a better use of his time to head in to the kitchen and make a head-start on lunch?

However, the warmth of the spring day had spun him into a more positive mood. What the hell? There was nothing to stop him hanging up if he ended up calling a magazine subscription seller at their home. Luke took the phone from the wall and passed it over the counter, then went back to take a seat on the bar stool, grateful the cord stretched so far. He dialled the number, listened for it to start ringing and then waited.

It was answered efficiently on the second ring. "Knox County Sheriff's Office. How can I help you?" Luke blinked in surprise, caught off-guard. Was this a practical joke? The voice on the other end didn't seem to think so. "Hello?" he heard the man ask again.

"Uh," Luke began, suddenly not sure what on earth to say. "Uh, look I'm sorry about this." He hesitated a second. "I got a call last night from someone called …Conibear. I don't know what it's about but this was the number he gave to call him back." Luke closed his eyes in a wince, prepared to either be laughed at by an idiotic student or yelled at for wasting police time. However, the man on the other end of the phone appeared to accept this without question.

"Can I take your name, sir?"

"Luke Danes." There was a rustling of paper on the other end of the line and a muted conversation with another person that Luke strained to understand. Presently, the man came back on the line. "Thank you for waiting Mr. Danes. I have Sheriff Conibear for you now."

_Sheriff_? Suddenly Luke registered the greeting he'd received when the phone was answered. _**Knox County**__ Sheriff's Office_? Despite the sunlight warming the counter top, Luke instantly grew cold. "Hello?" Luke heard another man's voice on the phone. "Mr Danes?"

"Yes?" Luke answered, numbly. His hands were tingling.

"I'm Alex Conibear," the man explained. "Thank you for calling back. I'm sheriff here out in Knox County and…"

"Is Jess okay?" Luke didn't have time to wade through introductions and pleasantries. Not when his nephew was at stake. Damn it! That phone call the other day _had to have been_ from Jess! What if he was in trouble? What if he'd needed him? What if Franklin was worse than either of them possibly imagined? Already Luke was on his feet, pacing the length of the counter for as long as the cord would allow. He imagined that same phone cord wrapped around the scrawny neck of Franklin Mariano, tightening inch by inch.

Alex Conibear gave a short laugh. "Well Mr Danes – you've just answered my first question. But just to clarify, is your nephew Jess Mariano?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah. Is he alright?" His hand gripped the phone.

"He's alright Mr Danes but would you mind if I asked you some questions?"

As soon as Luke heard that Jess was alright he relaxed, but only fractionally. Something in the sheriff's tone was keeping him on edge – like the man was holding something back. "Sure," Luke replied. "Whatever you need." Oddly enough, the thought that his nephew was in _trouble_ with the law had not even occurred to Luke as it would have done not too long ago.

He heard Conibear take a deep breath, hesitating – presumably weighing up how much he could discuss with Luke and how best to phrase it. "Your nephew lived with you in Stars Hollow, up until last week? Is that correct?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind telling me why he left?" That pulled Luke up short: what had happened in Knox County that made any _difference_ as to why Jess had left Stars Hollow? Was he suspected of being _on the run_?

Hesitantly, Luke replied: "His grandfather, Franklin Mariano, he…_persuaded_ Jess to go with him." It didn't take much detective skills to pick up on the underlying bitterness and edge. Alex Conibear seemed to pounce on it.

"Jess was willing?" Again, Luke felt his nerves notch up. Something had obviously got this sheriff spooked: something had set off warning bells. Perhaps Jess had been acting out? Shown signs of being obviously unhappy? Luke closed his eyes in dismay: it shouldn't have been up to his nephew to make this sacrifice!

"Not really," Luke confessed. "But Franklin got his mom on side and with his mother's orders…" He trailed off, hoping he needn't say more: Luke really didn't want to mention the ensuing custody battle or the Child Welfare investigation. _Knowing_ you were innocent didn't necessarily mean the world shared your sentiment. Thankfully, Sheriff Conibear seemed to accept the explanation as it stood. He made an understanding noise.

"Why are you asking me this, Sheriff? Is Jess really alright?"

"Why do you think he's not?"

Luke barked a hard laugh: "Because Franklin Mariano is a conniving slimeball of a human being and I'm beginning to wonder if the man has any sense of mortality or if he even gives a damn about Jess!" He suddenly stopped: was that slander? This _was_ a cop he was talking to.

Luke needn't have worried, however. "Nice to know we're talking about the same man," the sheriff replied. If it hadn't raised his concern for Jess even more, it would have made Luke smile. Right now, he could happily become the president of the _Franklin Mariano Extermination Club_. He'd make little badges and everything. It felt good to know he wouldn't be the only member, too.

There was a pause on the other end of the line while the sheriff seemed to be debating something with himself: it lasted longer than the other hesitations and had Luke beginning to worry there was something wrong with the connection. But before he could speak, Conibear came back.

"Mr. Danes?" His tone reeked of uncertainty, of walking a line. Luke held his breath, sure they were coming to the crux of something. "Are you aware that Franklin was granted permanent physical custody of Jess yesterday?" Without realising, Luke sank down onto the bar stool, the phone clutched tightly to his ear. _Permanent custody_? So he really was too late? After all his talk, all his hot air and big promises to the kid – turned out he was just another loser who let him slip through the net. Another adult who tossed him to the wolves when the going got rough.

"Mr. Danes?" Conibear repeated. Luke passed a shaking hand over his eyes and felt them prickle with moisture. Biting his bottom lip, Luke fought to keep his tone even and steady.

"No," he managed, voice raw with emotion. "I didn't think it would be that…quick." Truthfully, he'd never imagined it could happen _at all_. Not when any sane person could _see_ that Jess was his.

"Please understand, Mr. Danes. There are certain…facts that I can only share with a parent or a legal guardian…"

"_Don't_!" Luke suddenly interrupted, fiercely. "Don't you dare do that to me! _You_ called _me_!" And suddenly Luke found himself leaning forwards, gesticulating madly with his hands as though the sheriff was sitting right opposite him. "You can't just call me up, dangle something like this in my face, all but tell me something bad is going down with my nephew and then clam up on me!" Luke was aware that he was yelling at a cop and that this was actually a rather stupid thing to do but nothing could have made him care less.

When he wasn't shot down immediately, Luke carried on. "I don't know what is going on there but believe me, I get the picture and if you're looking for a relative who can _help_ Jess or just plain _anyone_ who can help him then _that's me_. Let me tell you, _no-one else_ gives a damn about that kid, no-one else loves him: not his mother and damned well not that snake of a grandfather!" The silence on the other end of the line gave Luke the desperate hope that he was being listened to, taken seriously.

"Please," he nearly begged. "I will do _anything_ for that kid." And suddenly he knew what a statement like that actually _meant_. With a renewed sense of purpose Luke pressed on. "_Anything_ – you get me? Whatever he needs. My nephew means the world to me. Who else is going to say that about him, huh?"

When Luke had finished his rant, he felt like crying again, not out of sadness but out of the realisation he had come to, the sense of purpose he now felt coursing through him. _Be a little more aggressive_. Truer words were never spoken. The silence on the end of the phone was deafening. Luke could hear his blood pumping.

When Alex spoke, Luke could _hear_ the corner he had turned, the line he had skirted across and silently thanked the heavens. "Did Franklin ever tell you _why_ he was taking Jess?"

Luke shook his head, more to himself. "Some cock and bull story about family and sentimentality. I didn't buy a word of it: neither did Jess, I don't think."

"Hmm. Did Franklin ever mention, to you or to Jess, a man by the name of Nathanial Mariano?"

Luke blinked in surprise. "Never heard of him." His brow furrowed in confusion. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Well, very little _currently_ in the sense that he's dead," the sheriff explained. "He was Franklin's older brother." Luke waited for him to explain – one long-lost Mariano was _more than enough_ for Luke to get used to. "Nathanial was…the polite term would be a recluse." Luke smiled when his brain filled in _impolite_ term.

Luke laughed, sarcastically. "I've never met a sociable Mariano yet." That included his nephew.

"It was no secret the old man despised his family and had no friends." Luke was impressed. Anyone who could despise Franklin Mariano was okay by him, he didn't care _how many_ soccer balls he'd refused to throw back from his garden. "It was also no secret that when he died, thanks to some pretty cut-throat wheeling and dealing, Nathanial Mariano was worth somewhere in the region of fourteen million, not including assets. The exact sum is unclear at the moment – lawyers are going crazy."

Luke let out a low, appreciate whistle. "I hope it wasn't stuffed in mattresses. But I still don't see what this has to do with Jess. He's never even _heard_ of this guy."

"That's _exactly_ the point, Mr. Danes." Luke sat up a little straighter. "Nathanial's family have been at each other's throats for the old man's inheritance for years but the word is that Nathanial screwed them all – he hated every last one of them."

Realisation suddenly dawned on Luke with a sinking feeling. "He left it to Jess?" Luke could hardly form the words, they seemed so impossibly outlandish! This was not the kind of thing that happened to his family.

"Not all of it," Conibear explained. "The house, the land and other assets – I'm not sure where that's going. But the money? Yes – at least a significant chunk of it - if my sources are correct. Now, I'm certain that Franklin got a hold of this information before anyone else." Luke was nearly speechless as his brain tried to come to terms with this: Jess – _millions_? "Jess was the one relative who he didn't know if he hated or not and was a sure-fire way to severely piss off – if you'll pardon my language - the nest of vultures who'd been circling him all his life."

Finally Luke had recovered himself long enough to ask, hesitantly: "So…the money belongs to Jess now?" God help him – the kid would be set for life! Provided Liz didn't get a hold of it. Luke's mind reeled with the possibilities that could open up for his nephew – the opportunities the boy would now have to make a secure future for himself.

"Not exactly. Jess can't touch it, can't even give it away or refuse it, until he's twenty-one and until then, it stays in trust - looked after by his parents or legal guardian." The chill began to seep back into Luke's bones. "Lawyers were working on tracking him down." Conibear paused. "Looks like Franklin found him first."

"Does Jess know?"

"Not unless Franklin's told him. From what I hear, lawyers representing Nathanial's estate are trying to contact Jess but his grandfather is making any contact …let's just say he's making it difficult." Luke leaned back in his stool. He needed a second to take this in. Absently, he glanced out of the window suddenly realising he had forgotten the outside world completely. Luke quickly scanned the street for any passers by who looked dangerously hungry or thirsty but thankfully they all kept marching.

"Can he do that?" Luke questioned. Conibear sucked in a thoughtful breath.

"He's Jess' guardian. There's a certain amount of leeway he has to legitimately monitor or control his movements. There's a line he hasn't crossed yet and until he does, I can't do anything about it." Luke sighed heavily in frustration and he got the impression the sheriff was feeling likewise.

A sudden thought struck Luke. "Just how controlled _is _Jess?"

The other man hesitated. "He's not been seen outside his grandfather's property much but then it has only been a week." Luke could hear something lying beneath the surface.

"When he _has_ been seen, does he look okay?"

"I was talking to Marty who runs the local post office today. He told me a kid who he assumes was Jess, came in today to mail a package. He didn't see Franklin but he recognised one of his men who came in with him. Apparently," and here it sounded as though he was choosing his words carefully and somewhat regrettably, "he appeared a little…banged up."

Luke was on his feet in an instant. "_Banged up_?" he demanded, angrily. "Just what are we talking about? Did he touch him? Did that bastard lay _a finger_ on him?"

"Mr. Danes, we don't know that _anyone_ touched him. But his face looked bruised and his arm was apparently in a sling."

"God damn, _son of a bitch_!" Luke cursed, sending the nearest piece of crockery sailing through the air until it smashed against the wall. He slammed a fist down onto the counter, making everything on it shake.

"_Mr Danes_," Conibear interjected forcefully. "Please calm down. There's nothing to suggest at this point that it was anything _other_ than an unfortunate accident." He could hear Luke's bitter, incredulous laugh. "I'm going to be going over to see him myself this afternoon, I promise."

"Uh huh," Luke agreed. He dug around in his pocket for his wallet and keys. "_So am I_."

Though not enthusiastic, Sheriff Conibear did not sound surprised. He sighed. "I can't stop you, Mr. Danes but I can _strongly advise_ you not to do anything rash. Franklin Mariano is his _legal guardian_ and if he stops you from seeing Jess, there's nothing you can do about it. At least not without a court order. I would hate to have to bring you in for any reason." And the man sounded sincere about that.

"Understood."

"Call me when you land. It would be best for now if you made contact with me present." Luke nodded, eager to be done with the conversation and on a plane to Jess. It was times like this when he wished he owned a cell phone so he could pack and talk at the same time.

He wasted no time in hanging up and after taking a minute to throw some clothes in a bag and turn the 'Open' sign round to 'Closed', Luke was all but running out of the diner's door, just remembering to lock it behind him.

This time, Luke thought grimly to himself as he started the truck's engine, come hell or high water he was _not_ coming home empty-handed!

* * *

Thank you for reading and for your support so far – feedback is always appreciates and really does help to kick-start the Muse (or drop-kick the Muse, depending on how difficult she's being!). BTW, I took some liberties with GG canon e.g. I'm not sure if Luke actually *did* have a cell-phone or was connected to e-mail and I apologise if I'm wrong on this – I hope it doesn't spoil it for you.


	23. Chapter 23

Fire and Ice – Chapter 23

Standard Disclaimer applies (the boys are probably very glad that I _don't _own them).

A/N: A huge and sincere thank you to everyone who is reading and (hopefully!) enjoying this story and an even more momentous thank-you to those who have been kind enough to leave me a review or send me a P.M!

* * *

Alex Conibear had not risen to the position of Sheriff by the age of thirty by being mild-mannered and easily deterred. It didn't matter to him how long Mariano's staff kept him stalled at the gate's intercom, he _would_ be coming inside – with a warrant if need be. Hell! He'd drag the judge along with him – make it a real party.

But Alex knew: fifteen minutes of a cop car idling outside his property would be enough to force Mariano's hand. This was not one of the man's pokey little rendezvous dives for his little rackets and it wasn't the lucrative offices that fronted his business. This was the man's home, his strong-hold. This was where his children and grandchildren lived: it was his private palace. You _didn't_ bring that murky world back to your home and the longer Conibear sat out there, the longer the mail man and the delivery vans and anybody else who cared to visit the mansion got to take a good look at him and wonder why.

Sure enough, while Alex had finished the last of the coffee in his thermos and dusted the crumbs from his bagel off his darn brown pants, the electric gates had suddenly sprung to life and a crackly voice sounded over the intercom inviting him in.

He parked the car in full view of potential visitors, right outside the front doors, despite being directed to a side entrance by the employee on the intercom. Getting out, Alex slammed the door shut, removed his glasses and hat and stared up the stone steps towards the double doors. Habitually, the man checked his side-arm was secure and his radio turned on and then tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. The voice on the intercom had feigned ignorance but Franklin was home: he could _smell_ him.

Conibear rang the bell then stood back. The door was answered promptly by a smiling maid who ushered him straight inside with an offer of a drink. Conibear smiled politely as he declined, all the while grinning with self-satisfaction inside. If Franklin was playing this nicely, he was most definitely spooked.

"Can I take your coat, Sheriff?" asked the lady who had shown him in to the grand, marble entrance lobby. Alex shook his head.

"No, thank you. If you could tell Mr. Mariano that I'm here, please?" She glanced over her shoulder quickly and then snapped her head back around to where he stood, idly scrutinising her. Conibear followed the direction of her gaze, noting the closed doors of the man's study. He smiled, disarmingly at her.

The woman appeared to debate something in her head for a second, perhaps, Alex considered, running through her instructions. A few seconds later, she replied: "Of course sir. Would you like to wait in the drawing room?" The woman crossed the hallway to a set of doors on the left, opening them on to the room.

"I'm fine here, thank you," Alex replied politely. "Just admiring the décor." She looked uncertain, nervous almost and Alex briefly regretted putting her in a position of disobeying instructions. However, not being in a position to physically man-handle him into the room, the woman nodded and scuttled towards the study. It was too great a distance for the sheriff to make out what was being said as the maid shared a brief exchange with someone on the other side of the door but presently, the door opened fully and the well-manicured form of Franklin Mariano swept out.

His silver mane of hair was loose around his weathered face and a black bolo necktie hung down across a plain blue shirt. A buckskin jacket and blue jeans completed the very casual appearance of the man. He strode towards Alex, hand out-stretched.

"Sheriff Conibear!" he announced on approach, shaking the man's hand. "It's always a pleasure to see you round these parts. What can I do you for?" Alex released his hand and nodded his head in greeting.

"I heard the guardianship was official," he remarked. "Congratulations."

"My, word travels fast," Franklin chuckled.

The sheriff shrugged. "It's a small town." He fixed a straight, hard look at Franklin. "People talk."

There was a tiny, barely perceptible twitch on Franklin's cheek. "That they do," the old man agreed. "I appreciate your good wishes, Sheriff. If that's all…?"

"Actually," Conibear interrupted, "I'm here to speak to Jess."

Curiosity twinkled in Franklin's eye. "He done something wrong? I can assure you, my grandson's a good boy." Alex gave a small smile as he shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong. I just like to check up on all our new residents. See how he's settling in." Alex took out his notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. Franklin's cheek twitched again: it was more noticeable now.

"_Really_?" he drawled in a soft, light voice. "How very…_civic_ of you." His smile was tight. "But Jess isn't here, I'm afraid."

Alex raised a surprised eyebrow. He'd been through town that morning and couldn't recall seeing him there. Movie theatre was closed that day so he couldn't have been holed up inside. "He's out?"

"Teenagers! You know how it is, Sheriff: you can't keep them in for long," Franklin shoved his hands in his jeans pocket as he regarded the sheriff with a cool, mocking eye.

Conibear made sure to keep his tone polite, pleasant even. "Can you call him? Get him home?"

"Drag the poor boy back in? He'd be _so_ disappointed."

Conibear fixed Franklin with another pointed look: "I'm sure he'll get over it and this is important." Franklin was starting to look visibly nervous though he swiftly moved to cover any mannerisms that might give him away.

"He doesn't have a phone, I'm afraid." Alex raised an eyebrow.

"A _teenager_ has no cell phone?" Franklin shook his head, his smile almost smug. Inwardly, Alex felt his insides tingling. He was desperate to take a look around but without probable cause or a warrant… But _something_ was not right in this house, with this conniving old weasel.

"I'll be sure to tell him you stopped by," Franklin announced, making to escort him to the front door. But Alex looked determined: he wasn't going anywhere yet.

"How's Jess doing?" he asked suddenly causing Franklin to frown. "Is he feeling any better after his accident?" The old man's eyes narrowed. Without waiting for a response, Alex continued. "I was talking to Marty down at the Post Office this morning. He told me how Jess looked. How did it happen?"

Franklin drew in a sharp breath, anger beginning to seep through his attempts at pleasantries. An aura of danger emanated from within him. "He's fine. Took a tumble down the stairs." He indicated the winding staircase behind them.

Conibear took note of the marble expanse and nodded. "Looks nasty," he remarked. "Marty said his arm looked broken. It was in a sling."

Franklin's eye flickered for a second, like a reptile's. "_Dislocated_," he corrected, through gritted teeth. Conibear appeared thoughtful. His calmness was increasing the old man's nervousness. Alex opened his notepad once more and scribbled something down in it.

"You following doctor's advice on it?" he queried, eyes still on his notepad.

"Uh huh. I'm taking good care of him." Franklin once more made to move towards the front door. "Now I'm a very busy man, Sheriff so I would appreciate being left alone now."

Alex coolly looked up from his pad to where Franklin was now moving but made no attempt to follow. "You know," he began, "I was passing by the hospital on my way here so while I was there, I asked after Jess." Franklin froze, his face paling. For his part, Conibear held his gaze and simply waited.

Slowly, Franklin took careful, measured steps back towards the sheriff. "Is that right?"

"It is. You know, they'd never heard of him? Certainly hadn't seen him last night."

Franklin had given up smiling. "I had a family doctor make a house-call."

Conibear raised a concerned eyebrow. "Was that wise?"

"Well the doc was satisfied," Franklin insisted. "If he wasn't, we would have brought Jess in straightaway. As it was, doc fixed him up just fine. Got meds for him and everything." Alex noted down something else on the pad and could almost _hear_ Franklin's pulse quicken.

"Uh huh. What was the doctor's name?"

The old man drew in a sharp breath, eyes narrow slits of darkness. Alex watched him neutrally, waiting. Finally, he relented. "Wilkins. Bob Wilkins." Alex scribbled this down too then looked up.

"Bob Wilkins?" he repeated. "Sure, I know the guy." He gave Franklin an inquisitive gaze. "If I remember correctly, Bob's a _very_ old family friend, isn't he?" Franklin pressed his thin lips together and nodded, warily. "Yeah, sure he is," Alex continued. "You two are as thick as thieves." Franklin almost glowered at him.

At that moment, Alex abruptly turned to go. Franklin had not yet stopped scowling but was nonetheless glad to see the sheriff heading towards the front door. Before he reached the door handle however, Alex turned back to him.

"One more thing, Franklin."

"What?" the man ground out, hands clenched inside his pockets.

"I need to check Jess is registered in school. It's been a week: settling in period is definitely over. Can you give me his details?" Again, the sheriff opened his notepad, prepared to write. This time, Franklin's short laugh was definitely nasty.

"He's not _in_ school," he all but snapped. "I've hired a tutor to come to the house."

Conibear paused and looked up. "Really?" He drew in a deep, pensive breath and shook his head, slowly. "Well now, see, that's going to be a problem."

Franklin took one step towards him, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "What _problem_ would that be, Sheriff?"

"Well being new to a community, it's important that Jess not only mixes with its citizens but also has the opportunity to socialise with kids his own age. That's not going to happen if he's cooped up in here, now is it?" Franklin opened his mouth to protest but Conibear simply cut him off. "You know, for a town this small, it's amazing how few people have actually laid eyes on your grandson. It's almost as if he doesn't exist."

Franklin barked out a sharp laugh. "That's preposterous! And if you're quite done sticking your nose into business that does not concern you and making judgements on a boy you know nothing about, I'll thank you to be on your way!"

"I know enough to realise he could use the social skills," Conibear returned, casually. "His uncle told me that much."

Franklin suddenly went very pale and very, very still. "What?"

"Oh, Jess' uncle: Luke Danes?" Off Franklin's shocked expression, Alex clarified with a slight, embarrassed shrug: "Well, I don't like puzzles: makes me curious."

The sound of the gates opening suddenly drew both men's attention to the driveway outside. Conibear swung open the front door and peered out. With any luck, Jess was returning from whatever journey he was meant to have been on. Franklin was by his side in an instant, eyes fixed on the gates.

Alex was therefore disappointed to see nothing more than a UPS truck drive through, though the latest development made Franklin edgy. "Would you please _just go_?" he urged. The sheriff's car sat front and centre outside his house and the driver of the delivery truck eyed it suspiciously as he drove round to the side entrance.

Alex ignored his order, barely concealed as a request. "You may think this is none of my business but there is a young man living in my jurisdiction whose welfare I would very much like to check for myself. You making that all the more difficult for me only makes me more persistent and keeping him out of school is a sure-fire way to make certain I _never_ give up on this." He watched as Franklin's face grew tighter.

"Franklin, please understand this: I _will_ talk to Jess. I _will_ check him over with my own two eyes. Now whether or not either myself or my deputy is parked outside these gates morning, noon and night that boy and I will share a face-to-face conversation." He paused to give the old man a chance to take his advice to heart. "If the boy is in _school_…well, let's just say that would be a huge step in easing my mind and in my leaving this fine establishment alone."

On saying that, Conibear angled his hat back on his head and removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket. He tipped his hat to Franklin who still had not spoken. "I'll check back with you tomorrow then. Thanks for your time."

As he climbed into his car, Alex could see Mariano Senior still standing sentry by his front door, watching him with unreserved hostility. The man was shaken and, Alex hoped, would now understand that Alex Conibear was not about to let his grandson slip through the cracks unnoticed.

* * *

Luke stared down at the plane ticket in his hand, clinging to it tightly. His flight was to be called imminently and though nothing was flashing on the monitors to say it had been delayed, that didn't stop Luke from glancing up to the screens every other minute. Every minute that he sat in an airport, Jess was living with a monster.

Luke's knee hammered up and down from where he sat on the leather and metal chair. Other passengers were starting to give him funny looks but no doubt put his anxiety down to a nervous flier. Inwardly, Luke was obsessing. He'd been unconsciously obsessing since Jess had run out of their apartment; now he was actively, consciously and whole-heartedly obsessing. It consumed him every second he waited: what had happened to his nephew the moment he fell into Franklin's clutches? Was he scared? Had he changed his mind, tried to come back? What if Franklin had forced him onto that plane? And _how_ had Jess been hurt?

The questions kept coming, faster than Luke could process them until eventually he wanted to scream. Belatedly, he realised that if he didn't stop staring at the monitor and pouring over events he couldn't change then he was going to go crazy. Luke looked around the terminal for a distraction. When he spotted the row of payphones an idea sprang to mind. He shouldn't really just up and leave Stars Hollow without so much as a word. Caesar was owed at least a phone call to explain that the diner would be closed indefinitely – Luke almost chuckled to himself, imaging his customers' expressions when they saw the diner closed, mid-week. It had been an extremely long time since that had happened.

Quickly, always aware of time, Luke made his way over to the phones and dug around in his pocket for some change. Though his chef deserved a courtesy call, it wasn't Caesar that Luke wanted to call. He glanced at his watch. It was early afternoon; Lorelai would be working at the Inn but perhaps he could catch her at the front desk? Luke knew the number by heart (he knew all her numbers by heart though would never tell her) and then held his breath as he waited for it to be answered.

"Hello? Independence Inn." Her beautiful, warm voice greeted him like a balm and Luke was amazed at the waves of tension that suddenly left his shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief:

"Lorelai?" He could imagine the young woman blinking in surprise.

"Luke?" she asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. "Is everything okay? You don't normally call me at work."

"Sort of," he answered. "I'm heading out of town for a bit. I need you to tell Caesar if you wouldn't mind? The diner's going to be closed till I get back."

"Uh, sure. No problem." She hesitated a second. "Luke? Where are you going?" Luke suspected she had already figured out the answer.

He sighed, deeply. "To find him, Lorelai. He's hurting and I can't ignore it any longer." Over the line, he heard his friend take in a sharp breath.

"How do you know?" she demanded. And so Luke relayed to her his conversation with Alex Conibear and all that it entailed. By the time he had finished, Lorelai had stopped talking: Luke always took silence from her as a bad sign.

Finally, she breathed: "Oh man."

"I have no idea what I'm actually doing, Lorelai," Luke admitted with a small laugh. "I'm just going to head over to this Sheriff Conibear and take it from there."

"Well it's good that you've got this sheriff on your side. Stick with him, Luke – I know it's going to be really hard where Jess is concerned, but please don't do anything stupid," she begged. Luke knew his friend understood: if _Rory_ were in danger, if she were half-way across the country, there was nothing she wouldn't do to help her.

"So you don't think I'm crazy?"

"I think you love him," she answered, honestly. "And I think he needs someone like you more than ever. God!" she suddenly exclaimed in anger, "He hurt him? I mean that piece of filth actually _hurt_ the kid?" Though she couldn't see him, Luke nodded grimly.

"I'll bet my right arm he did though apparently there's no proof yet." She swore softly, keeping her voice down: Luke assumed there may be hotel guests milling nearby. Luke glanced back at the departures screen.

"Uh oh," he announced. "My flight's boarding: I gotta go. Lorelai?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening and…" he trailed off, awkwardly. "Ah, I don't know. Just, thanks for everything. You know?"

He could feel her smile. "I know," she assured him. "And Luke? When you find him, give him a hug from me?"

Luke laughed. "He won't like that."

"I know. So do it anyway. And when you guys land back in Stars Hollow, I expect a phone call."

Luke smiled. "You bet." Before he ended the call, he quickly added: "Oh, Rory wanted Jess' address to send a book back to him? Well tell her to hang on to it, will you? She can give it back to him herself."

The young woman laughed, softly. "You got it. Bye Luke and good luck."

When Luke ended the conversation, he kept his friend's words in his heart, successfully replacing fear and regret with warmth and hope.

And even as he passed through the Gate and onto the plane, Luke clung to the strength that feeling gave him as tightly as he had clung to his ticket.

* * *

When Jess had returned from the mansion's wooded surroundings, his book tucked neatly into his sling, he had sensed the activity in the house as soon as he opened the door. Being more familiar with the property, he now knew to use one of the back doors when coming in from the gardens as opposed to the front and as he had walked past various serving staff, Jess got the impression they were looking at him curiously.

Puzzled, the teenager tried to brush it off: after the first day or so, he'd thought they would be over their curiosity at the new addition to the household but perhaps his injury or the recent guardianship had got tongues wagging again? Mercifully, his gormless cousins were back in college and his aunt haunted her own set of apartments within the mansion, rarely crossing into common territory. The household staff he could just about ignore but Franklin always expected pleasantries where family was concerned.

The mere thought of family got Jess' heart pumping: the package with his letter secreted inside it had been successfully mailed. As the young man had handed it over to the clerk behind the window he had held his breath, just _waiting_ for someone to suddenly come along and intercept the package. Or perhaps for the goon beside him to mysteriously sense the foreign rustle of an interloping sheet of paper within the documents. So as he saw the heavy envelope drop into the waiting mail bag, Jess had to fight to stop himself from grinning.

The raven-haired young man decided to take a quick detour to the kitchens to grab a bag of chips before heading up to his room. The kitchen staff, Jess knew, would be starting dinner preparations soon but presently no-one was there. After rifling through the pantry for a minute, Jess found what he was looking for, grabbed a soda from the well-stocked fridge and then made his way out of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to allow a member of housekeeping to pass through. Jess gave her a discreet second glance: her face was familiar but learning her name had seemed pointless.

"Are you all packed, Sir?" the woman asked him with a cheery smile. She glanced over her shoulder at Jess as she busied herself in the kitchen.

Jess stopped short. He had been mid-step on his way out of the door when his foot halted in mid-air and he swung back round to face her. His brow was furrowed in confusion and suspicion. "Packed?" he repeated, sure she must think she was speaking to someone else. Why on earth would he be packing to go anywhere when he'd only just arrived?

For just a second Jess basked in the idea that Franklin was finally tired of him; that he was sending him back to Luke – that this whole charade had just been some elaborate hoax to prove some kind of a point and now that said point was made, Jess was free to return to his old life. But the young man wasn't that deluded, or lucky.

Before the young woman could reply however she glanced up at Jess: her eyes widened and she almost stumbled back a step. His back to the door, Jess closed his eyes in weariness, safe in the knowledge the illicit gesture would go unseen. Unless he had suddenly developed alarmingly bad hair or had something equally ghastly stuck between his front teeth Jess could think of no other reason for this previously cheerful character to suddenly look like she had just stared Death in the face.

Sure enough a hand fell onto his good shoulder and gave a light squeeze. His shoulder tensed immediately but the hand did not let go.

"Ah, there you are Jess," Franklin remarked. "I've been wondering where you got to."

Jess turned slowly to face him, his expression now reverted to its usual blank canvass.

"_You_ were the one who insisted I go out and get some air," he pointed out. Franklin was momentarily puzzled and, Jess realised, it was the first time he had seen his grandfather honestly let something slip his mind. The boy scrutinised Franklin even as he stood, passively by. There was something distinctly…_off_ about the old man: he seemed cagier than usual – the twitch of his eye, the taut muscles and veins visible on his arms and beneath the collar of his shirt. Franklin was distracted…almost disturbed.

"Everything okay?" Jess asked, cautiously. His grandfather beamed and nodded.

"Of course it is!"

"Huh. Where am I going?" He had to force his brain to stop foolishly chanting _Luke, Luke, Luke_ over and over. The boy thought he saw his grandfather shoot the woman in the kitchen a look. Jess glanced back at her: she was furiously laying out pots and pans, eyes fixed downwards, shoulders tight. Jess sighed: why was it so hard to give up being magnanimous? He had always sucked at giving up bad habits. Wearily Jess walked away from the kitchen, drawing Franklin out, forcing him to follow and thereby leave the unfortunate woman, who had _dared to offer him information_, alone.

Franklin had to jog to catch up which absurdly pleased Jess who quickened his pace a little. "What do you mean, son?" he called after him, finally drawing level as they crossed the main lobby and reached the foot of the grand staircase.

Jess turned to face him. "Apparently I'm packing," he pointed out. "Kind of implies I'm going somewhere, doesn't it?" Franklin's expression appeared a little guilty:

"Ah, I wanted to talk to you before someone let it slip accidentally." Jess raised an eyebrow but made no comment. "You see Jess," Franklin explained, "I've been doing some thinking and I believe you're right…about school," he filled in, seeing Jess' confusion.

_School?_ Jess hadn't known what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't that. However, as he considered for a moment, it wasn't an unwelcome development either. The teenager instinctively knew he'd feel safer, _saner_ even, around people not in his grandfather's employ. "So, I'm going to school now?" Jess clarified, slowly.

Franklin nodded. "I realised you're going to have to develop those social skills of yours: particularly if you're going to be following me in to the family business." Jess scowled suddenly:

"I never agreed to…"

But Franklin waved a dismissive hand to cut him off: "I know, I know: forgive an old man for looking ahead." Jess narrowed his eyes: he still didn't like it but pushing Franklin could sometimes prove hazardous to his health and Jess hadn't quite worked out what trigger set him off yet.

"Now, there'll be a car waiting to take you after dinner." _After dinner?_ Slowly, things began to click into place but only to reveal more questions.

Jess was honestly confused: "Isn't the place going to be shut by then?" Franklin chuckled.

"You'll need to be there by eight am for a tour and entrance exam – it's over a hundred miles away: you won't want to do that in the morning, not when you need to be on top form to take this test. You'll be staying in a small hotel near to the school, tonight."

"Why am I going to a school a hundred miles away?" Jess demanded, incredulously – although the idea of being a hundred miles away from his grandfather was, frankly, delightful. "There are plenty in town."

Franklin scoffed, waving a hand in the air. "You need something that's going to stretch you – challenge you! Something with traditions, structure, AP courses."

"I _really_ don't."

"I disagree."

For a moment, the two Marianos stood opposite each other, staring each other down. Jess wished he could fold both arms across his chest, defiantly but had to make do with an unwavering glare.

"Back in Stars Hollow," Jess pointed out, "you said education wasn't even _important_!"

"For God's sake, Jess!" Franklin snapped. "You're only going to _see_ the place – I'm not selling you into a monastery."

Sensing danger – a snake about to strike, Jess reluctantly backed down, a scowl etched in place across his forehead, eyes lowered to the floor. Truth be told, even a stuck-up school would be better than living with Franklin. Maybe this was a chance worth embracing?

"What's it called?" he muttered.

Franklin stopped and in that moment, Jess saw a second of panic cross his face, eyes widened, mouth hanging open for a moment too long. His suspicion was immediately aroused. "You don't know what it's _called_?" Jess questioned.

Franklin quickly recovered, his anger evident. "Of course I know!" he spat. "Don't you disrespect me."

Jess' eyes widened in alarm. He took a step back. "I wasn't!" he insisted – which was the truth: that was the only time in the conversation that he _hadn't been_. "I just thought maybe I could Google it before I left…"

"Well you _can't_," the old man growled. Off Jess' expression, he amended with a low mutter: "You haven't time to waste surfing the internet. You need to pack a bag – you'll be leaving soon." With that, he stalked away from Jess without so much as a look back.

Jess watched him walk away, into his study. He heard the heavy door shut and the lock click in place a few seconds later. For a moment, Jess simply stood by the foot of the stairs. Franklin's explanation rang hollow in his ears, riddled with holes where the truth should have been. A bad feeling stole into his heart and lingered. There were reasons this could well be a good thing: Maybe Franklin was right? An academic school would stop him being bored. A school far away would get him out of his grandfather's shadow, at least during the week. Mixing with people outside of this crazy family could actually make Jess _willingly_ attend a social function.

There were a lot of _good_ reasons. But still Jess gripped the banister tightly, with his one working hand, palms sweating, as he slowly climbed the staircase to his room.

* * *

OK, that's it for now. I hope people enjoyed the chapter. I'll try to get the next one out as quickly as I can.

Thanks for reading.


	24. Chapter 24

Fire and Ice – Chapter 24

Standard disclaimer applies as is always does.

A/N: This is now way beyond the realms of Gilmore Girls episodes and I'm sorry as I realise I've probably lost a fair few readers. I know the style has changed, not to mention the gaps between updates have yawned wider. However, I'm afraid the story has taken me here and I cannot turn back now. Hopefully only one more chapter to the end now. I'm sorry for the wait but thank you all very much for your reviews, pm's and death threats.

* * *

Just how long did it take to 'de-plane' an aircraft the size of his truck? Luke blew a hard stream of air through clenched teeth and glowered down at the elderly lady seated next to him on the aisle. She sat, reading her magazine, refusing to so much as collect her carpet bag from the overhead locker while Luke had been stood, impatiently hunched over at his seat since the tyres had stopped skidding on the runway, just willing the plane to stop and let him off. Finally, the flight attendants released the locks on the aircraft doors and the tinny 'disembarking' announcement sounded throughout the cabin.

Luke just about stopped himself from clambering over the woman who finally seemed to acknowledge that they were indeed leaving the plane and then proceeded to jostle his way down the aisle and out into the Nebraska air.

He made his way through the modest terminal as quickly as possible, heading to the nearest payphone. Conibear's number was in his pocket and Luke fished it out, dialling the number with fingers that felt steadier than his nerves. It was true that adrenaline was setting his every nerve-ending tingling but a strange sense of calm had taken over Luke's outward functions. He was glad of that at least – people tended to get a little nervous in airports around twitchy passengers.

The phone rang three times before it was answered. Luke vaguely thought he recognised the voice from his earlier call at the diner. "Knox County Sheriff's Department?" the voice asked. For a second, Luke glanced down at his watch and then winced when he saw the late hour. Then again, police stations didn't have opening hours, did they?

Hastily, Luke began to introduce himself but before he could get past his name, he could hear a man's voice, muffled on the other end of the line and a second later, another familiar voice greeted him.

"Mr. Danes? Alex Conibear. You made good time – I wasn't sure if you'd get a flight this soon." The sheriff paused a moment. "This is a local number, so I just assumed," he clarified, sensing Luke's un-voiced question.

Luke nodded, unseen. "I'm at the airport," he confirmed. He took a glance through the sliding glass doors of the exit to see if he could spot a taxi rank. One cab sat by the kerb with its engine idling but the same lady who had been seated next to him on the plane, now opened its door and awkwardly climbed inside. Luke narrowed his eyes as the car pulled away.

"Sioux?" Conibear asked. Luke had to think for a second.

"Yeah," he answered then he heard a shuffling on the other end.

"One second," the sheriff said. Luke strained to listen – he wasn't put on hold so a distant conversation could just about be made out. Presently, Conibear returned. "A patrolman will be with you shortly. Are you okay to wait outside by the drop-off point?"

At once, a flurry of protests sprung to Luke's lips. "Look you really don't have to…"

However, the sheriff's firm voice interrupted him.

"It's no problem Mr. Danes. I have a car very close to you that's due in at the station now anyway. It won't take him a minute to swing by and pick you up."

"Even so," Luke began, "I'm sure it's a misuse of police resources or something."

"Mr. Danes, he's already on his way to you. Trust me, you won't find many cabs there at this time of night – we don't tend to get many flights coming in at this hour." Reluctantly, Luke's view of the empty taxi rank was leading him to the same conclusion and his need to see Jess was escalating every second he wasted on the phone. Besides, Luke strongly suspected Conibear wanted him where he could keep an eye on him… and no doubt a restraining hand if need be.

"Fine, I'll be waiting outside." They said their short goodbyes and hung up. Outside, the wind was picking up sending a flurry of plastic bags and dust hurtling across the sidewalk. Luke shifted the weight of the small bag he had brought as he strode towards the exit, determined that the next time he passed through those sliding doors, it would be with his nephew safely in tow.

* * *

Jess sat crossed-legged on his bed, absently fingering the zip on his travel bag. The small soft-leather case sat beside him on the quilt. There wasn't a lot to put in it. Dark dress slacks that had suddenly appeared in his wardrobe and a plain shirt were the bag's main residents. A pair of highly-polished black leather shoes was buried at the bottom of the case though Jess secretly had no intention of wearing them. The trouser legs were long enough to cover the tops of his feet and Jess saw no reason why his sneakers would not suffice. They weren't falling apart or even particularly muddy.

He was only to be gone one night. It was to be a short ride to the school early the next morning from the motel they were to spend the night in but Franklin reckoned they could make the journey back in one day. Jess uncrossed his legs and rose from his bed, crossing to stare out of the window. The crunching of tyres on gravel trained his eyes on the gate as it slowly crawled open. A sleek black car drove carefully round the horseshoe drive stopping just outside the steps to the front door. Its headlights shone brightly in the dark like the eyes of an animal glinting in the night's undergrowth. The young man watched as the driver killed the engine and climbed out just as Franklin walked down to meet him. Jess watched as his grandfather handed the man a folded piece of paper, presumably with directions or instructions of some kind. The driver seemed to absorb the information contained in the note, nodded and handed the paper back to Franklin.

Disinterested now, Jess turned away from the window and instead turned his thoughts to the journey. Franklin had seemed more collected over dinner and when Jess had cautiously pressed him for the name of the school once more, this time he had been more forthcoming: Mount Michael Benedictine. Sounded worryingly ecclesiastical. His cell phone had still not materialised but the road to Mount Michael Benedictine in Elkhorn must be littered with gas stations and payphones and Jess fully intended to take advantage of the first opportunity he had to call Luke. His driver had looked bulky and burly but not the sharpest tool in the box. Jess' lip curled up in a condescending smirk. It wouldn't be too hard to give the goon the slip for a while.

Before they stopped for the night, Jess _would_ have talked to his uncle one way or another. On that point, the boy was unwavering.

He picked up a paper-back and shoved it, folded neatly in half, in his back pocket.

From down below, the front door clicked open. "Jess. Get your gear together. Time to hit the road." The boy glanced towards the door then swiped up his bag.

"Jess?" Franklin called again, impatiently. "You hear me?"

He didn't bother replying. The old man wasn't worth it. Instead, Jess took one last look around the room, checking to make sure he had everything he wanted, before heading out of the door. Determination and anticipation drove him forwards, down the stairs and out of the front door, pushing brusquely past his waiting grandfather. The man's wizened features twisted into a frown but he made no other sign of displeasure.

Jess made to open the passenger door and sighed heavily when the driver pointedly opened the back door. "What?" he questioned, sarcastically. "Kids don't ride up front?" The driver's stony expression appeared to etch itself a little more deeply into his face but it was Franklin who responded.

"Has it really been so long since we had this conversation at the airport?" he drawled, his expression a blend of exasperation and disgust. Jess blinked in surprise. His arrival at the airport now seemed like million years ago rather than the few short weeks that had passed. Something heavy seemed to shift through the young man as he realised how much he had changed in just that time. He had somehow transformed from a snarky, witty, mysteriously aloof yet casually caring teenager into…_what_? Jess took a moment to glance at himself in the car window.

His face seemed dull and sallow and his cheek-bones and eye-sockets more pronounced than he remembered. Every part of him looked familiar and yet out of place, as though they were no longer a part of him. But above all else, it was his eyes that shocked Jess. They were lifeless and dark, like pits behind a mask. He looked…_tamed_ wasn't the right word. It was too benign, too justifiable. He hadn't been a wild beast to be brought down and tamed by the trainer's whip. No, he looked broken, trapped…defeated. In the first few weeks of living with his uncle, Jess has also noted a change in him, but that alteration had been different, more subtle, less austere. Luke had made him feel _wanted_. Franklin had made him feel _owned_.

A throat cleared in front of him, snapping Jess back to his surroundings. His driver was already in position behind the wheel and Franklin was standing by the open back door, one leathery hand gripping the top of the door. Jess glanced down for his bag but it was no-where to be seen, presumably safely stowed in the trunk. "In you get," Franklin barked with a quick incline of his head.

With a heavy sigh, Jess cast one last look back at the house before sidling past his waiting grandfather and into the car. The driver turned the key and the engine purred to life. As Jess removed his book from his back pocket and shifted to get comfortable he growled in frustration as he watched Franklin lean into his space, hooking his safety-belt out and holding it out to him. "What am I? Four?" Jess snapped, hand not moving to take it. "Do I need a booster seat, too?"

Franklin did not move, nor his steely eyes leave his grandson's face. "Safety first, Jess." The safety-belt buckle dangled tauntingly between them. Jess narrowed his eyes, glowering at the old man. One night away from the creep just wasn't going to be enough. With a jolt, he felt something very similar to the old Jess, infusing itself through his blood, stirring his veins. What was the old guy going to do? Have his other arm broken? Screw him.

However, Jess plainly saw that his grandfather would not take no for an answer, nor could his journey begin with the back door wide open. So, with a muttered, "Jesus, _fine_!" Jess snatched the buckle away from Franklin and stabbed it into its slot. It locked in place firmly and Jess tensed as he felt the leather tighten around him, holding him fast. Again he shifted in his seat, this time trying to loosen the grip as the strap bit into the side of his neck and collar bone. He at least tried to make it comfortable around the sling which still immobilised his healing shoulder.

Franklin pointed a bony finger in his face and Jess resisted the urge to snap it like a twig. "Now behave yourself and make a good impression with this school. If I didn't have business to attend to here, I'd be coming with you."

"I think I'll make it on my own," Jess answered, tightly, aware that his grandfather probably wouldn't let him leave without at least a half-way polite departure. But when he glanced up at the old man, he stopped short. There was something reptilian and cold dancing across his wizened features. Jess suddenly found that he couldn't take his eyes off the man. They were fixed, rooted, to a hard jaw, to tight thin lips and to cold eyes that seemed to crinkle in the corners with regret.

"Mr. Havers," Franklin spoke softly and quietly to the man behind the wheel. "You have your instructions. Safe journey."

Then the door closed with a soft thud, the locks slid down and silence filled the car. As the car pulled out of the gates, Jess twisted as best he could in his seat to look through the back windscreen. Of course the house stood and his grandfather stood exactly where he'd last seen them. Only his grandfather's faint smile was new.

* * *

It turned out four, possibly five pot-holes was his limit. Luke fought the protective urge to fling his hands above himself to shield his head from the unforgiving roof of the patrol car. Instead, he concentrated on what patrolman Brad was telling him: a mixture of a potted history of the area and a run-down on the day's policing events. Neither amounted to a great deal but it kept Luke's mind off the immediate and ever-present cause for concern. Jess was screaming in his thoughts now. He was so close, _so close_. Any one of these roads could lead to his nephew. Allowing a small distraction from Brad's monologue, Luke gave a part of his mind over to running through the scene– what he would say to the boy to convince him to come home, that it didn't matter about any court proceedings, that they would work it out, weather the storm.

That was version A. In version B, he doesn't give Jess the choice – just tosses him over his shoulder if need be and simply hauls him back to Stars Hollow where Jess gets to remain locked in the apartment until all future noble impulses have been firmly eradicated. Version C was much like version B but involved a great deal of pain being meted out to Franklin, child-snatching, Mariano. Luke hadn't even realised he was smiling until Brad innocently asked him what was funny and he quickly realised he would need to ditch the police escort before that scenario could play out.

"We're here, Sir." Luke tried not to let his surprise show too visibly. To his left stood a large, rectangular pale-brick building with a neatly attended lawn, bordered by flowerbeds. A lot for squad cars dominated the right hand side of the lawn and a small, neat stone path dissected the verdant grass, leading up to the main entrance. At first glance it looked more like a retirement home but a metal sign hammered into the grass identified it as the Knox County Police Department.

"Right," Luke said, unbuckling himself and opening his door. He stood for a moment, stretching his legs and easing out the kinks in his spine while the young patrolman fetched his small carry-on from the trunk. Luke had tried to keep a hold of it at the airport but Brad was firmly resolved on the matter. "Here you go, Sir," Brad announced, winding his way round the back of the car and holding out the bag to Luke.

"Thanks," he replied, taking the bag and trying to sound sincere. Luke shifted his cap on his head and tugged up the collar of his jacket. The air seemed sharper all of a sudden. A sudden dip in air-pressure signalled the presence of an approaching storm. As if on cue, Brad glanced up at the sky. "It's clouding over something fierce," he remarked. "Looks like rain." Luke followed his gaze upwards and saw for himself the ominous black clouds gathering in the dark sky.

At that moment, the door to the building opened and Luke looked back to see Alex Conibear moving forward to greet him, hand extended. "Yup. Looks like a storm all right. Looks like you landed just in time." Gratefully, Luke stepped up and shook the man's hand.

"Thanks for the lift," he remarked to the sheriff. He turned to his young escort. "I appreciate it." Brad nodded.

"You're welcome, Sir. Sheriff? That all for the night?"

Alex nodded, eyes diverting briefly to his officer. "Sure. Thanks Brad. Get on home to Linda, now before she starts hunting you down." Brad grinned, showing a row of straight white teeth, just recently out of braces.

"Night, Sheriff." He gave a short wave to Alex and a final nod to Luke as he turned and headed back down the path. Once he had gone, Conibear ushered Luke inside the building.

"Want some coffee?" he asked as he closed the door behind them and walked over to where a pot sat brewing on a small table by the reception desk. Luke remained where he was, a few steps in from the door and tried hard to keep the impatience from his voice as he answered. "No, thanks. If it's all the same to you, I just really want to see how Jess is doing."

Conibear paused while reaching for a mug. He regarded Luke carefully for a moment. "It's late," he stated, needlessly. "I wasn't actually planning on driving out there till the morning. I've got a room lined up for you at the motel across the street. Thought maybe you could spend a little time freshening up." He watched with a keen eye as the muscles in Luke's face twitched and the grip on his bag tightened. The worn leather handle creaked and cracked.

"Coolin' off some," he added, pointedly.

With supreme effort, Luke forced his body to relax and when he spoke it was with the measured tones of the rational, sane and composed. Or at least the very best approximation he could manage. "That sounds great," he began slowly. "And I get it. Really." Conibear eyed him cautiously but his movements at least unfroze as he picked up the coffee mug and reached for the pot. Luke pressed onwards. "But I just really want to know if he's okay, you know? I'm not planning on going off on one. But I'm worried."

Alex sighed as he poured the drink. He offered the mug to Luke, who shook his head. "I understand you're worried, Mr. Danes," he began, placating. "But at this point in time, we really are just speculating."

Feeling his lead slipping away, Luke hurriedly interrupted him. "Yeah, look I know that. But it's just that I have this bad feeling. I've tried calling his cell-phone a dozen times over the past couple of weeks and I can't get hold of him, and then you tell me about how he's hurt and that no-body's seen him and let's not even get in to how creepy and amoral that grandfather of his actually is and you can see where I'm coming from, can't you?"

He finished in a rush, taking a sharp breath. In front of him, Conibear put down the mug. Luke almost bit his lip as he watched the man's thoughtful expression. His eyes were somewhere far away. It made Luke nervous but it also gave him hope. Eagerly, he breached the gap between the two of them.

"I'm not looking to make a fuss. Just swing by. I'm sure Jess will see me without any drama. I mean, Franklin's not actually banned me from seeing him – I know it's an unsociable hour but I'm not breaking any laws, here." He waited, poised. Finally, Alex looked at him, a decision forming in his mind.

"Jess has a cell-phone?" he asked, carefully. Luke blinked in surprise, a little taken aback that this was the sheriff's preoccupation.

"Uh yeah. I bought it for him myself at Christmas. He called me on it when he first arrived." He didn't add that he was only half sure of that – not when this seemed to be swaying Conibear over to his side for whatever reason. The sheriff folded his arms across his chest, still internalising.

"He told me Jess didn't have one."

"Who?" Luke shot back, even though he could well imagine without needing to be told.

"Franklin. When I wanted to contact the kid myself." A niggling feeling had reignited itself in the pit of Conibear's stomach. "Maybe," he started. "Maybe a quick drive-by wouldn't hurt. Just to arrange a proper appointment for tomorrow."

Luke's heart leapt and the pragmatic side of him refrained from pointing out that a phone call to the house would have been far more efficient for this purpose. It didn't matter – he was going to see Jess! He was actually going to see his nephew again and with the sheriff there, there was less chance of Franklin stone-walling him and blocking his access. Already Luke's thoughts had travelled far ahead of his companion's. One way or another, the boy would be leaving with him when he boarded that plane home.

However, aware that he mustn't appear too manic, Luke forced himself to contain his eagerness. "Sure. That sounds like a plan. When do you want to leave?" He hedged his bets, praying his bluff wouldn't be called. "Should I check in to the motel first?" he offered. "Get settled?" With a huge sense of relief, he saw Alex shake his head.

"No. No sense in it getting any later than it already is. If you're okay to travel again so soon, then we should hit the road now." Conibear had barely finished speaking before Luke was by the door, holding it open for him.

"After you," Luke offered. Alex paused a moment to look at him and then simply shook his head and smiled as he passed through the door.

* * *

They had been driving an hour or thereabouts. One black road melted seamlessly into another. Rows upon rows of farmlands and fields stretched on either side of the narrow road. Rarely, very rarely, the odd house was interspersed amongst the clusters of woodland and open space. They seemed remote and alone. Abandoned. Jess leaned his head against the pane and cast his mind back to his journey through similar roads when he first drove to his grandfather's mansion. The moon, clouded over with dark clouds, lent little light to his surroundings and cast the odd, eerie ribbon of moonlight over the terrain, highlighting a fallen tree or the metal shell of a long abandoned car.

The ride was silent. He had no desire to talk to Havers and his driver, it seemed, was under the same impression. It suited him just fine. A radio station would have been nice but Jess wasn't willing to communicate long enough to request it. Not that he thought Havers would comply even if he did.

Half-heartedly, Jess reached down to the seat beside him and picked up his book once more. However, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the words, they seemed to blur in front of him and his mind tugged itself away from the comfort of the page. Try as he might, Jess couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He shook his head and glanced back out of the window.

For the first half hour or so, Jess had been eagerly scouring the landscape for signs of a payphone, a gas station, even just the merest sign of civilisation. Now, however, he had all but given up hope of that particular miracle. They seemed to be heading towards a whole lot of nothing. He'd Googled the route from the mansion to the school and had seen they were to back-track through the route he had originally taken, past the airport where he'd landed. Jess had pretty good instincts for direction and he thought he remembered it well but so far, he had yet to recognise any landmark. He was also pretty sure they should have hit the main highway by now. But no such luck.

Still, a road sign would have been useful, given him some bearings. No matter, however, how carefully he kept his eyes peeled, none were forthcoming. Ahead of them, Jess could make out towering dark mounds looming in the distance. Mountains. Jess glanced behind him. There had been no turn-offs for a while and it looked like a fairly straight road ahead. He narrowed his eyes, his stomach tightening. He didn't recall any mountains on the map. The seatbelt chafed at his neck again and Jess tugged it away with more urgency than was strictly necessary.

There was something…lonely about this stretch of road. Something that rang with the souls of the lost. Jess almost struck up a conversation with Havers – an exchange of insults – anything to kill the cloying silence that suddenly seemed to chill him. But not quite. After-all, he told himself firmly, he was driving _away_ from his grandfather. There was nothing to fear here. Across the mountains, a distant rumble of thunder fell.

* * *

"Thunder sounds pretty loud," Luke remarked. He swivelled sideways in his seat to the direction it seemed to come from. Alex glanced over briefly, also following the sound.

"Seems loud but it's still pretty far off. If we're lucky we can make it there and back again before the worst of the storm hits." He clicked his indicator on and took a sharp right turn down a smaller side road. Luke steadied himself with one hand on the door-handle.

"How much farther?" he asked and mentally tried to tally up how many times he had asked that question in the last twenty minutes. Thankfully, if Conibear was keeping a like tally (and Luke was now fairly certain that nothing much slipped past Alex Conibear) then he wasn't mentioning it.

Instead, he glanced down to the radio clock. "'Bout thirty minutes, give or take. Traffic won't be bad this time of night." Luke nodded, lifting his cap a little to run a hand through his hair. Silently, he took stock of his rather sparse surroundings and couldn't actually imagine a time when traffic _would_ be a problem along these roads. It was making Stars Hollow seem positively cosmopolitan in comparison. For a moment, his mind wandered back to the residents of his quaint little home town, busy in their own personal dramas. He thought of Lorelai and her unwavering support and, for a moment, felt a swell of gratitude and strength. Tonight, he felt a million miles from home, from his familiar diner, his secure life, his routine. But all would be worth it when he brought his nephew home.

A faint pattering sound on the windshield heralded the start of the rain, for the time being, falling lightly around them. It wasn't quite heavy enough to turn on the wipers but before too long, the gentle misting of rain turned heavier.

Suddenly the car lurched to a stop. "Damn it," Conibear swore softly, under his breath. Luke quickly saw the reason why. Across the narrow road stretched a car, no lights, no driver. Quickly, Conibear put his hazard lights on and exited the car. Luke followed suit. A quick inspection of the vehicle revealed the handwritten note from the driver. Alex picked it up from under the wipers and unfolded it, careful not to tear the soggy paper.

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"Taylor Mason's car," the sheriff replied, scouring the note. "Battery's dead. He's walked into town to call a garage. Guess he can't get reception here or something." Luke tried not to sound too impatient.

"Well can we move it?" He looked to the ditches either side of the road, suspecting the answer before it came.

"Not easily. I'll call in for a patrol car to come wait in the area until Mason gets back." He walked back to the radio in his car and it wasn't long before he'd got another car heading out their way. Luke watched the events unfold with growing frustration. Were they really going to wait for the damned thing to be shifted? They could be here for hours!

Fortunately, Conibear had other ideas. "We'll need to turn around, take a slight detour, but we'll still make good time. Patrol car should be here any minute. I think it'd be okay for us to head out." He took a glance round at the empty road, his professional conscience telling him he really should stay until the patrol car arrived. However, he quashed the feeling.

"Let's get going," he announced. They both climbed back in as Alex swung the car around and headed back onto the main road.

* * *

Jess had almost drifted into an uneasy sleep when he suddenly felt the car roll to a halt and the engine die. Warily, he opened his eyes and craned around him to see where they were? Was it a rest stop? Somewhere with a pay-phone? With a sinking heart, Jess took in the blackness, the fields, the nothingness surrounding the road they had just pulled over by.

Up front, Havers opened his door and got out, shutting it behind him. Jess looked again at their position. The road was little more than a country track with deep ditches running either side. A small grass verge ran along the left-hand ditch, giving the road some distance from ditch. Small bridges, planks of wood really, spanned the distance between the ditch and the connecting land. Havers had pulled the car over as far as he could so that it left the road mostly clear for other vehicles to pass.

Intrigued, Jess' instincts told him to keep very still and listen. Havers stood a short distance from the car, his back to him. He glanced over at Jess' direction but presumably still thought him asleep for he paid him little else attention. Instead he pulled out his phone. Jess was amazed to see he seemed to be getting reception, even this far into no-where. He dialled a number then, after a pause, a connection was obviously made. Feigning sleep, Jess strained to make out what was being said.

He couldn't hear much but the tone was low and urgent. It didn't sound like any casual conversation. Again, Jess felt his insides lurch but this time another feeling came over him. His fingers itched, his legs twitched. A desire, an impulse to run was coursing through him. Jess stole another glance at Havers. The man's back was facing him. He seemed to hunch over his phone, barking out short replies. From the curt nods of his head, Jess was certain he was getting instructions, giving information.

Jess felt his breath catch in his lungs. He felt the darkness wrap itself tightly around him. Unconscious of his actions, Jess un-clicked his safety-belt. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. There was something wrong about the whole situation, his instincts were nagging at him. The impulse to run became a scream in his head. Havers tapped something small and light in his inside coat pocket.

The rational part of Jess' mind was still functioning, talking to him. They were clearly in the middle of no-where. Havers could be lost, ringing someone for directions. That shape in his pocket could just as easily be a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. There was absolutely no reason to start panicking.

However, his door was open and his feet were taking him across the makeshift bridge and over the dark expanse of fields before his brain had caught up with his actions.

At first he had been running with no direction in mind – just a warning: keep going, keep going. But now that he had started his flight, Jess realised he had no idea of where he could run to. A whole lot of nothing stretched before him on either side. The rain that had recently started to fall was coming down harder now, plastering his hair to his forehead. It clung to the corners of his eyes as he ran and Jess swiped it away with his one good arm. His lungs were beginning to ache in the cold and rain and his breathing started to rasp.

Luke's many admonitions about wrapping up warmly and not over-exerting himself came flashing through his mind. As Jess pushed himself to run on, further into darkness, images of that frozen lake flooded back through his brain and with it, the familiar feeling of desperation and isolation. He was alone out here, the teenager allowed himself a brief moment to let that settle through his thoughts. There was no-one to be seen, no-one who knew where he was and no-one to help. How he always seemed to get himself in to these situations was beyond him. Jess still wasn't even sure why he was running or what he needed help _from_!

A particularly deep rut in the field suddenly sent him tumbling to the earth, the muddy grass made more slippery by the rain. Jess grunted in pain as he hit the ground, thankful he landed on his one good shoulder. The impact jarred his body and sent spasms of pain across his chest but at least the arm was still workable. The boy was breathing hard now and, with limbs beginning to tremble from exertion, he pushed himself to his feet. The idea occurred to him to turn and fight – to face down whatever perceived threat was waiting for him back at the car. For a moment, Jess turned around to face the way he'd come. But only a moment. Havers wasn't the sharpest tool in the box but Jess didn't want to think about how many pounds the man outweighed him by, not to mention the fact that Jess only had one arm working.

Through the rain and the dark and the distance, Jess strained to see. Was that the car? How far had he come? He felt as though he had been running a marathon but in reality, how much distance had he actually put between himself and Havers?

The sudden furious shout from across the night and the frantic slam of a car door answered his question: not nearly enough.

With a grimace of pain, Jess stumbled on across the field. Ahead, just past what looked to be a small copse of trees, Jess' heart leapt when he made out what appeared to be a large structure, standing tall against the night sky.

Behind him, Jess could just about make out the sounds of Havers' determined footsteps across the field. Or maybe he only imagined he could? Either way, he wasn't hanging around to find out. With one last burst of effort, he hastily made for the building, panting heavily and leaning against its wooden door-frame when he eventually arrived. Dimly, as his chest fought to draw in oxygen, Jess wondered if his cursed lungs were _ever_ going to work the same again?

The building appeared to be some kind of a barn though a quick look around at its run-down interior revealed it had been some time since it was last used. Jess hurried inside, pausing a second to readjust his sling. His shoulder screamed and burned in protest but he resolutely ignored it. Instead, Jess took stock of his surroundings, looking for something, anything that he could use if (and most likely when) he was discovered.

Unfortunately, though in the dark he couldn't see much, there didn't appear to be so much as a shovel left lying around. Empty stalls revealed nothing of interest, their doors hanging loosely off to one side. The odd pile of hay still remained scattered throughout the barn and above his head, a hay loft ran the length of one side of the room. Jess looked back out of the half-open barn door. He could now hear the heavy breathing of Havers, hear the man's frenzied, furious cursing as he approached. With only one building in sight, it hadn't taken him long to surmise where Jess would have gone. He rolled his eyes. Perhaps not quite as dumb as he'd taken him for, then.

Scanning down from the hayloft, Jess spotted an old wooden ladder. The rungs looked damp and slightly crumbling but with little other choice, he made straight for it. Outside, the sounds of his approaching driver drew nearer. Not wasting any more time, Jess planted one foot on the first wrung and hoisted himself up, immensely relieved when the wood didn't snap beneath him. It was certainly no easy task with only one working arm. He braced himself as best he could against one side of the ladder, while pulling himself up with all his might with the other hand. The rough wood dug splinters into his hand but Jess kept going, ignoring too the persistent ache of his shoulder.

Though his footing was unsteady, mercifully, the ladder remained firm, bolted to the side of the hayloft. When Jess reached the last wrung, he flung his upper body onto the dusty wooden platform and hauled his legs over the side until he was lying, breathing hard on the floorboards. A moment later, Jess heard the sounds of the wooden barn door creaking open. Instantly, he inched himself further back from the edge of the loft, his heart hammering in his chest. The room was inky black but the boards creaked and groaned softly beneath his weight.

Below, the imposing outline of Havers moved cautiously into the room. He looked around, listening hard. Jess held his breath. Havers stopped, still. From what Jess could see, peering as far as he dared over the edge of the loft, the man was simply standing, waiting. It occurred to Jess that they both of them knew there was no where else for Jess to run to, nor any other exit from the barn. Havers reached into his pocket and withdrew two small items. They seemed to glint or perhaps that was just Jess' imagination.

Ignoring Havers for now, Jess scanned the loft. His eyes fell upon a window at the end of the barn. Instantly, the boy began to calculate. He had no intention of simply waiting for Havers to find him and, though he'd fight tooth and nail if it came to it, Jess also knew he wasn't likely to gain an advantage there. The window was small but he could fit through it. Hastily, Jess tried to recall the terrain around the barn. There had been trees outside, but any near enough to break his fall? Cursing himself silently, Jess couldn't recall. Any handy piles of hay, like there always seemed to be in the movies? He almost laughed. Course not. But still, it seemed his best option going. He didn't think he was that high. A twisted ankle may be better than the alternative.

Quietly, Jess twisted round onto his hands and knees.

"Kid?" The quiet voice from beneath him put his nerves on edge. There was a small, low sound of a chink, like metal on metal and suddenly a warm glow began to pool out from the ground below. Jess froze and held his breath, shrinking even further back into the loft.

Havers held the flip-top lighter out in front of him. Jess looked down through the cracks in the floorboards under him. Though partially obscured, he could see Havers make a slow circle of room, holding the small flame into the darkest corners of the barn, scanning it over the hay piles and slowly stall by stall. Jess allowed himself a small sigh of relief. The man didn't know exactly where he was. Either he hadn't seen the hayloft yet or hadn't counted on Jess being able to reach it. But how long would that last?

"Kid?" he called again, sure of Jess' presence. Slowly, very slowly, Jess began to inch forwards on his hands and knees, keeping as low to the boards as he could. They smelt damp and musty and his nose itched to sneeze. The sound of raindrops began to hammer more insistently on the roof and walls around them. Havers scanned the stall he was currently standing in. There was something almost peaceful about his search now. It was methodical, calm – a far cry from the frenzied exclamations that had left his lips when he'd first discovered Jess missing.

Despite himself, Jess paused.

"It's alright, kid," Havers continued, as if sensing his quarry's thoughts. "It's okay." Jess looked down through the cracks again. He couldn't make out what Havers was carrying in his other hand but he moved slowly and carefully through the barn, shining the light into all the crevices and hiding places.

"You can come on out now, Jess," Havers called quietly. He had doubled back now, heading over towards the far end of the barn. He was almost standing by the ladder, right under where Jess currently crouched. Jess looked down at the man under him. He daren't continue his path to the window. Even with the sound of the rain, the way the floorboards creaked, Havers was bound to hear it this time. He strained to see what was in the man's other hand but he couldn't get a clear view. From the flickering flame of the lighter, however, Jess was sure whatever it was, glinted.

Havers turned towards the ladder and Jess could see his head cock to one side as he contemplated it. Jess braced himself, ready to move.

But, he suddenly reasoned, Havers didn't seem to be angry. His voice sounded…almost reassuring. The man stepped to the ladder and held the lighter higher, trying to illuminate the darkness of the loft above him. The sphere of light, however, wouldn't quite reach. Doubt crept into the teenager's mind. Could he have been wrong about the whole thing? Had he just made an absolute ass of himself by running for no good reason, whatsoever?

Were his instincts, in this case, way off?

Havers looked, unseeing, above him. "Kid? It's okay. It'll only hurt for a minute."

No, they really weren't. Jess lunged forwards towards the window, body moving without his brain's consent. The next two events happened in such quick succession, it was hard to separate them. Havers instinctively moved towards the sound of creaking, cracking wood rather than going for the ladder, instead following where he judged Jess' body to be, above him. As Jess moved, the wood beneath him cracked and a dreadful, splitting sound filled the air. One moment Jess was kneeling and the next he was falling.

The loft shattered beneath him, sending splintered beams and planks tumbling to the ground. Jess felt his body and his limbs plummeting downwards and he scrambled to catch a hold on anything solid but to no avail. He wasn't sure whether the scream he heard came from his own throat or from that of Havers, as the structure collapsed on top of the man, sending him crumbling to the ground, crushed beneath the fallen beams.

All Jess knew as he hit the ground, apart from the awful crunching sound ripping through the air, was pain. Intense, white-hot pain. It rocked him, consumed him, lit every nerve-ending in his body. His head swam violently as he lay beneath the remnants of the balcony, twisted and pinned to the ground. He tried to cry out but even if the breath would come, there was no-one to hear him.

Dimly, movements sluggish and unresponsive, Jess struggled to sit up, to move the objects weighing him down but nothing could make him move his leg. The unnatural angle alone should have told him there would be no way he would walk out of that barn. But the screaming fire every time he tried to move it off the ground was sending him another message entirely. There had to be another reason why his movements seemed glued to the barn floor.

Jess could no longer stifle the scream of pain bubbling up through his throat. His vision was swimming, his world blacking out at the edges. Tears stung at his eyes but with no-one there to see them, Jess no longer cared. Panting heavily, Jess struggled onto his elbow – no longer his 'good' elbow but at least free from a sling. His legs lay beneath piles of broken wood but none of the beams looked too heavy to shift. The worst of that had fallen on Havers who had not moved or stirred since the collapse.

Biting back a further cry, Jess clamped his lip between his teeth until he tasted blood. Carefully, he forced his arm to move, to travel down the length of his leg. With the last of his strength, Jess pushed away the debris of wood he came across, frantically trying to clear the obstruction. He had some success, too. Chunks of splintered wood crumbled to the floor around him. When his hands came to the large upward-jutting shard of wood, attached firmly to the plank beneath him and running securely through the length of his left thigh, protruding through the top like a mountain peak, Jess fell back against the floor, spent.

His breathing became shallow, his lungs protesting the effort. One by one, Jess' senses began to dull, to shut down as the welcome relief of unconsciousness sought to take him over. The darkness encroached further into his vision and his limbs began to numb. Jess would have felt fear, would have let it overwhelm him, only he was distracted at the last moment by another sense, one not yet faded. The patter of rain on the roof was no longer the only sound in the barn. It was joined now by a crackling, a snapping and hissing, quiet at first but growing in intensity.

Through Jess' fogged mind, he struggled to place it. The sound was familiar, so damned familiar. As his mind ran through the various possibilities, his eyes saw the fallen lighter on the hay just a second before his brain registered the flames.

* * *

That's all for now. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm hoping on only one more chapter to go before I can lay the story to rest :) Thanks very much for reading this far.


	25. Chapter 25

Fire and Ice – Chapter 25

Standard disclaimer applies.

I've realised that I can't quite wrap the story up in one chapter so this will not be the last one. Possibly one more after this then hopefully I can wrap this up. Thanks to everyone who left a review. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry if some words are unfamiliar. I promise it's not likely to be a typo (though I'm not immune to them!) but it's more likely to be a word common to the UK.

* * *

The sheriff watched Luke's fingers drumming nervously, alternating between the side of his legs and the car seat. Though their little diversion hadn't cost them much time, to Luke it had seemed a life time. There seemed to be a sudden urgency charging through him and it was starting to make Conibear twitchy himself.

Partly to distract his companion and partly out of genuine curiosity, Conibear asked a question that had been playing on his mind for a while. "So, Mr. Danes, if you don't mind my asking how did Jess end up living with you in the first place? Have you raised him since he was small?" He glanced away from the road to gauge the man's response.

Luke's face creased into a frown and he folded his arms across his chest, a little awkwardly. Sensing his reluctance, Alex started to back-pedal but before he could voice his thoughts, Luke began speaking. "No, not long. Not as long as I would have liked. Or should have, I guess." He looked over at the sheriff, who simply raised his eyebrows in a question. Luke sighed. "His mom, my sister, had – _has _- problems and his dead beet of a father upped and left them." He paused. Family business was usually strictly private as far as the Danes were concerned but Luke figured Conibear had done enough for both him and Jess, to warrant a little information. For his part, Alex didn't push.

"I always knew in my gut that she wasn't handling the whole…single motherhood thing well but…" He trailed off angrily, his hand unconsciously making a fist by his side.

Alex gave a small shrug. "Not your job to look after your sister, surely?"

"You look after family. _Period_," Luke insisted, forcefully. "Doesn't matter what it costs you. But I was quite happy with my life exactly the way I had it and I didn't want it changed." Luke stared down at his lap and mumbled softly. "I didn't step up. Not when it would have made a difference. Now I'm just…" His lip curled in self-deprecation. "The clean-up crew."

Alex slowed for an animal in the road. As he did so, he pursed his lips, thoughtfully. "So it's too late for the kid? He may as well just pack it in and give up now? Is that what you mean?" He felt Luke's head snap around to him though he kept his eyes tracked on the road.

"No!" Luke snapped. "He's a damned bright kid. He reads more than anyone I know – well, nearly anyone I know. I mean, he needs a kick up the backside every now and again to keep him on track but he could do so much if he just…" Luke finally trailed off and gave a slight smile. "Okay. I get the point."

"Point?" Alex asked, guilelessly, not able to smother his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ha-ha. Okay. It's not too late. But I miss the time I lost with him, when I could have been making his life a little easier."

"Sounds to me like you're making up for it now. I don't know many uncles who'd go to the lengths you are to get their nephews back. I can see he means a lot to you."

Luke sighed again.

"Yeah, but when he leaves his crap all over the bathroom and plays his music at a volume that makes my ears bleed and when I can't even ask him what he wants for dinner without a smart-assed reply I do kind of wonder why."

Alex chuckled. "The way I understand it, that's just teenagers." Suddenly, he turned his attention away from their conversation and his eyes went to the side of the road. "What have we got here?" he muttered to himself, slowing down and pulling over. Luke squinted to see in the dark.

"Looks abandoned," the sheriff remarked as he stopped behind the black car. Luke rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Another one? Is there some electro-magnetic pulse that we don't know about, shorting out all the vehicles around here?" Conibear turned to him and smiled in sympathy.

"I'm sorry. I know this is frustrating but I need to check no-one's hurt." Suddenly Luke felt foolish and a little selfish for his preoccupation. He waved away Conibear's explanation, in embarrassment. "No, I get it. Go ahead."

Nodding, Alex got out and made his way cautiously around the sleek, black car. With little else to do, Luke did the same though when he heard Luke's car door open, Conibear waved him back, wanting him to keep his distance, just to be safe. Luke hung back, compliantly, while Alex shone a flashlight into the car and peered through the windows.

"Anyone in there?" Luke called.

After a moment's more inspection, Alex shook his head and beckoned Luke forward. "Nope. But there's a flashlight still in the door and what looks like a GPS plugged in to the charger. Looks like whoever was in here left in a hurry." He moved round to the front of the vehicle and scribbled down the license plate in his notebook. "I'm going to have the station run a check on the plates. See if I can't find an owner." He moved back to his car and glanced up at Luke. "This will only take a minute."

Luke nodded. He turned away from the abandoned car and, while he half-listened to Conibear calling in the plate, Luke wandered away, across a small ditch and into a nearby field. The ground was thick with mud from the still falling rain and Luke winced as his boots squelched beneath him. Muttering darkly as he felt the mud slide up around the bottoms of his jeans, Luke heaved his foot out with a satisfying sucking sound.

With a slight grimace, Luke leaned down to examine his foot. And that's when it caught his eye. Fluttering in the wind, battered by the rain and half buried in mud, Luke leant down to retrieve the book. He clenched the paperback in his hands for a moment, not quite daring, not quite believing it could be true. Luke screwed his eyes shut and pressed the book to his chest. It felt familiar, it felt heavy in his hands and as he clung to its well-loved pages, Luke was flooded with images of a dark, tousled-haired young man who would curl up on his mattress, a book much like this folded in his lap. A book like this that was given pride of place on his diner counter when its owner was meant to be serving customers.

His heart began to thump hard in his chest and Luke immediately took a step further towards the field. Then another. Ahead of him, there seemed nothing apart from the dark and the rain but that didn't seem to stop his legs taking yet another step.

"Mr. Danes!" Luke half-turned to Conibear. The sheriff was standing by his car door, radio still in his hand. "I've just got a result on this plate and I think we may have something interesting. Guess who this car is registered to? None other than your Mr. Franklin Mariano." Luke's eyes widened and his grip on the book tightened. It was then that he saw Luke clutching something to his chest.

"What have you got there?" he asked. Picking up his flashlight, he shone it over in Luke's direction and began to make his way over to join him.

"It's Jess' book!" Luke called back, desperation straining his voice. Conibear frowned and shone his light towards the other man, careful not to dazzle him. The strain in Luke's voice was apparent. "You sure?" he asked.

Luke hesitated for a moment and though he was facing Conibear, his foot continued to take another step backwards. "I think so. I mean, it isn't named or anything but…he loves this story. It's called _Howl._ I've no idea what it's about. Like a werewolf book or something only he's way too smart to be reading books about werewolves. So I don't know. But I just _know_, you know? It's _his_. And this car is his grandfather's and…" Suddenly Luke stopped and turned. Something in the distance had caught his eye, caught his hearing. "Do you see that?"

He was peering hard into the night, just beyond a spread of trees. Conibear frowned. "See what?"

"That!" Luke shouted, pointing to where an orange glow began to light to the sky. "Fire!" Luke yelled and then he was off running, tearing towards the rising glow. Dimly, he heard the sheriff running back to his car but Luke didn't stop to listen. He was now convinced: this was where he'd find his nephew and he only prayed he wasn't already too late.

* * *

Jess' moments of strength and movement came in short, un-sustained bursts as the nausea and dizziness rolled over him in waves. Whenever clarity permitted, Jess fought to sit up, take account of the danger. The heat was becoming over-powering – it burned his eyes, his nose and mouth. Jess' chest was wracked painfully with a coughing fit and he screwed his eyes shut tight while he tried to block out the smoke.

The fire had not yet reached him and Jess tried once more to lift his injured leg. With a strangled sob, he gritted his teeth and once again gripped his leg around the puncture site. Through his torn jeans, Jess could see the wood protruding grotesquely through the skin, splitting his thigh apart. It felt a little ridiculous to be squeamish to look at it when there were far more pressing concerns.

The fire began to crackle and spread up the wooden walls and beams, gently licking the wood with flickering tongues. Dimly, Jess recognised the sound of a beam cracking and smashing to the ground, somewhere near the entrance. If he had any realistic chance of wrenching his leg off its wooden spike and making a mad dash for the door, then this fallen beam would have been a problem. As it was, Jess hardly thought it mattered.

In the last few moments of lucidity that Jess reckoned he had, he allowed his brain, his tangled memories to offer him whatever comfort they could. Faces and familiar voices swam in-front of him, in and out of focus and Jess fought hard to hold on to one of them, just long enough to make him feel less alone.

That, Jess considered, was a little strange for him. For as long as Jess could remember, he had always envisaged dying alone. It wasn't from any macabre desire to be morbid or even to preserve his stance as a loner. It was simply that, aside from possibly the person who was killing him, Jess couldn't imagine there was anybody who would really _want_ to be there with him. More to the point perhaps, the boy had never been able to think of someone that _he_ would want to see in those final moments. Dying was intensely, indisputably personal. Where-ever he went afterwards, and even in this moment Jess still couldn't decide if there was anywhere to go, he would be going there alone. It was a moment in his life that belonged solely to him, no-one else could take it away from him and if left to his own devices, in his own mind Jess could make it beautiful.

But now? Now he found that, against all odds, there _was_ someone that he wanted to see. There were people who had touched his life who he desperately now wanted to touch his death – to lend him some of the peace they somehow brought with them. However, the images would not come, no matter how hard he tried to conjure them. The warm, kind faces ghosted in and out of his presence, tormenting him, just out of reach. Jess lay back and closed his eyes, determined not to cry as the heat around him intensified but it was so damned hard. Even the people who weren't real, who lived only in his mind, wouldn't stay with him.

It was harder to think clearly. Jess weakly tried to open his eyes but found that they would not. His body no longer seemed to obey his commands. His chest, eyes, throat, nose, skin…everything burnt. Reflexively, he tried to vomit, his chest heaving violently but Jess wasn't aware of this. As his mind shut down, he allowed himself to feel whatever peace he could scrape together from the small mercies that obliviousness afforded him, like a beggar at the feast.

_Jess!_ Something stirred within the boy's mind. _Jess!_ Again that voice, his name. Was it coming from inside his head? It had sounded more distant. Dimly, he thought about opening his eyes, about trying to respond. But it hurt so damned much to stay awake. The voices had talked to him before. Perhaps they were here to comfort him at last?

"Jess! Son! Where are you?"

Another sound now joined the voice: clattering, movement, like frantic footsteps and debris being moved out of the way.

Was someone coming his way? It wasn't possible. He was alone. He was meant to be alone. This was right. He had accepted this. It was peaceful. It was his.

"Oh Jesus – Jess hang on! I'm coming." The voice was clear, though. Damn it, it was so clear! And it was getting nearer, louder. Slowly, Jess' body, his mind began to come into focus and with it came the pain, the panic. He opened his eyes, screwing them shut again when the black smoke swept inside.

Through the hazy images he saw a bulky figure rush to his side and drop down on to the floor. Jess frowned. His hallucinations had never amounted to more than disembodied heads. A strong pair of hands gripped the sides of his face. The fingers were calloused but comforting. "Jess? Thank God. Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

The boy finally had to admit it. Someone was there. Someone was actually, physically there. He opened his eyes again and squinted up. Though his brain could not fathom the whys and wherefores, Jess was in no position to dwell on the lunacy of the situation. Sure, the last time he had seen his uncle Luke, he had been ripping the man's heart out while storming out of their ramshackle little apartment. The fact that he was now kneeling across from him in a burning barn in the middle of No-Wheresville was neither here nor there. If anyone could find him out here, Luke could.

For his part, Luke was scared to death. Plain terrified. He only hoped his nephew couldn't see it written all over his face. From the second he had spied him lying on the ground, Luke had feared the worst and prayed for a miracle. As Jess began, groggily, to stir beneath his hands, Luke's heart leapt. He watched the boy's eyes crack open and saw the look of bewilderment cross his face. _Yeah, you and me both, kid_, Luke thought, grimly. He wasn't a particularly religious man by nature but there was something in the air tonight which had shaken him, deeply.

He smiled down at his nephew, aware of the urgency of their situation, but not able to resist a moment of connection. "It's okay, Jess," he assured the boy, trying to gauge his thoughts. "I'm really here."

To his surprise, Jess simply rolled his eyes and smirked. "Course you are," he croaked, painfully. "In my mind you don't have that ridiculous cap." Luke's hands reflexively shot to his head, feeling the cap in question and his face broke into a wide grin. God, the boy was still as sarcastic as ever and Luke had never loved him more!

Suddenly, Luke snapped back to business. "Okay, Jess. Hold still, I'm going to lift you." He frowned when he saw Jess frantically start to shake his head.

"No," the kid mumbled. "M' leg." Jess leaned back from his hands, as Luke had moved them under his back, ready to lift. Luke frowned and removed his hands, immediately moving further down Jess' body to survey his legs more closely.

As soon as he saw the damage, Luke nearly lost what little he had eaten on plane. Bone was visible through the skin of his left leg, the flesh mottled, twisted and bright red. But what really stopped the breath in his chest was the wooden spike protruding through the boy's jeans. Quickly, Luke leaned down to see the plank of wood beneath Jess. He bit his lip and fought to keep his voice even.

"It's not too bad, Jess," he reassured him. Jess choked out a hard laugh but secretly appreciated his uncle's efforts of lying to spare his feelings.

Cautiously, Luke moved his hands around the leg in question and tested its movement. The moment his hands touched the flesh, Jess' head shot back in pain, his face stark white against the bright red colour of his lips. He heard the strangled cry that Jess couldn't quite hold back. Immediately, Luke stopped. But the fire was getting nearer to them by the second and the smoke would get the both of them before too long. Where-ever Conibear was, he couldn't move Jess any more easily than Luke could.

"I'm sorry, Jess." Luke admitted. "I don't know how to do this without causing you pain."

Jess barked a hard and bitter laugh. "For God's sake, it doesn't _matter_ any more, Luke: just _do it_!" And so Luke did. He grasped the boy's leg firmly, braced his knee against the plank of wood the shard was still attached to and then, in as fluid a motion as he manage, he lifted. It moved slowly, painstakingly slowly, flesh travelling through the splintered wood. Luke concentrated hard on his job – on disturbing the leg as little as possible – and tried to block out the rest: the bones undoubtedly wrenching themselves the wrong way, the flesh tearing wider as the bottom of the leg finally cleared the tip of the wood and on Jess' screams.

As soon as the leg was clear, trying to keep the boy as still as possible, Luke lifted him into his arms. The fire was spreading from the sides of the room, into the centre. Jess was barely conscious now. The effort of trying to maintain his composure during Luke's ministrations had all but wiped him out. He lay, trembling and exhausted in his uncle's arms. Luke began to cough loudly.

"Mr. Danes?" From outside the barn, Luke could hear the sheriff's voice and the wail of sirens coming nearer. He made for the exit, pausing briefly at the other man who lay near by. Luke was no doctor, but he hadn't thought there was much that could be done for him, even if his attention hadn't been focused on his nephew. The fire had obviously started around him. Luke winced at what had become of this man and hoped to God that he was dead before the fire got him.

As Luke reached the exit he saw Alex Conibear running towards him. Luke hadn't even realised how much he was coughing until he hit the fresh air again. Deep coughs wracked his body and jostled his nephew, mercilessly. Conibear's expression clearly told Luke what he and the boy looked like. He took a stumbling step forward in the mud as the rain continued to turn the field into a bog.

"There's a man inside," he coughed to the sheriff. Alex followed his gaze in and nodded.

"Okay, take the boy well away from the building and lay him down before you fall over." He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his nose and mouth, backing up a step as he prepared to run inside. Luke shifted Jess in his arms, needing to do as Alex suggested and put him down, for both their sakes but not before turning back to Conibear, in alarm.

"No!" he protested. "He's dead, there's nothing you can do for him. It's getting worse in there. Stay out." Even as he spoke, Luke moved further away from the rising flames and knelt down, stretching his nephew out as carefully as he could on the grass. How he wished he was a medical man and had some idea of how to limit the boy's injuries. His gut instinct told him the way he moved the kid had possibly done more harm than good but he'd seen no other way of getting Jess out of immediate danger.

When he'd safely laid him down, Luke turned back to where the sheriff had been standing, dismayed to see him gone. He could only pray the man had more experience at this than he did. There had at least been a relatively clear path to the door when he had passed through. Luke sank to the ground, taking slow deep breaths. If Jess needed CPR, he was in no state to give it at the moment. Thankfully, though his breathing was shallow and his pulse weak, they were both still there. The boy's bright red lips spoke of smoke inhalation and the painful red colour of skin, mixed with the black soot which coated his face and clothing, painted a bleak picture.

Taking off his flannel shirt, Luke tried his best to use it to staunch the flow of blood from Jess' leg. The amount of blood, pooling through the mud and mixing with the grass and rain was causing the man's stomach to flip. He pressed down as hard as he dared on the wound, not wanting to aggravate the broken bones any further. In that moment, coughing hard, Conibear emerged from the building, just moments before the doorway collapsed behind him in a mixture of flames and timber. He was empty-handed and looking as grim as Luke had ever seen him.

He watched as Alex made his way over to where Luke had moved to, shaking his head slowly as he approached. "He was buried too deep and," he paused a second, "his body wasn't in any condition to move." Luke nodded understandingly but he could see from the anger in the man's eyes that he wasn't used to failing or to leaving someone behind.

"You did your best," Luke assured him. But Conibear was already waving him off. Instead he moved to Jess, lying deathly still on the grass.

"I take it this is your nephew?" Again, Luke nodded. The hand that wasn't holding the shirt was gently stroking through the teenager's hair.

"His leg is hurt," Luke pointed out. "But he seems to be breathing okay." Conibear checked his breathing for himself and then leaned in to look at his leg, briefly moving Luke's shirt aside.

His expression hardly altered when he saw the wound but he pursed his lips, thinking.

"Ambulance is coming up now. We'll keep the pressure on till they get here – best let the experts work on him as much as possible now. But don't worry. He'll be fine." As if on cue, the sirens grew louder and louder until they were wailing around them.

Blue and red flashing lights lit the sky as men and women jumped out of vehicles in ordered chaos, barking orders efficiently and quickly. Paramedics were suddenly surrounding them, swarming in. Luke nearly jumped. He knew they were there but it still took him by surprise. They moved around his nephew, taking readings, inserting needles, applying splints, attending to the puncture wound, fixing blood-pressure cuffs and covering his nose and mouth with an oxygen mask. Luke tried, irritably, to brush away the ones who tried to minister to him but Conibear quietly persuaded him to just let them do their job. The sooner they were done here, the sooner they would head to the hospital.

And so Luke acquiesced. They did their jobs, they loaded his nephew onto a gurney and bundled Luke in, wrapped in a blanket, to sit alongside him. All the while, Luke couldn't take his eyes off the boy, couldn't quite believe that he really was right there beside him. The ambulance doors slammed shut and Luke leaned forwards and gently took Jess' hand in his.

* * *

That's it for now. One, possibly two chapters to finish it now. Thank you for reading so far. Please drop me a line if you have a minute - I really appreciate it.


	26. Chapter 26

Standard disclaimer applies in that I don't own anything.

A/N – Here's the next chapter. I really hope whoever is still with me on this journey enjoys it. I'm trying to be better with updating though work still does, unfortunately, top my priorities more than I would like. Thank you so, so much to those who have taken the time to leave a review. I really appreciate it.

**Fire and Ice – Chapter 26**

The smell of smoke and burning still permeated the air. Luke could feel it encircling him, choking him: its stench made him want to gag – singed hair, crisp flesh and guttered dreams. With supreme effort, Luke forced himself to look away from the doors leading to the O.R. where Jess had been taken. His eyes were starting to water, though whether that was from lingering smoke or forcing them open for too long, Luke couldn't tell.

He glanced over at the payphone on the wall. He should really call someone. But who? Liz? Luke snorted: he hadn't factored Liz into the equation for weeks now. Whatever part she still played in her son's life, he wasn't sure of anymore. Luke suddenly squeezed his hands more firmly between his knees as another round of tremors threatened to alert the medical staff that he should be back under observation. Luke was certain there had been an eager intern hovering by his exam cubicle who would have been only too happy to boost their ER experience if he had only hung around long enough for them to get a proper look at him.

As it was, how was he expected to be the patient when he needed to be the protector? His knee was bouncing incessantly though it had nothing to do with involuntary tremors. An image flashed suddenly, unbidden through his mind: bouncing an over-excited little boy on his knee as the dark-haired child squealed in delight and gripped his tiny fist around Luke's shirt.

Luke swallowed down the painful lump in his throat. Did Jess even remember those moments? Those glimpses of a childhood that Luke had tried to touch? Did Jess remember the times he was there, or only the times when he wasn't? The times when he had driven away from the boy with only a pat on the head, leaving him with an alcoholic mother and a monster of a boyfriend waiting in the wings. He thought back to the sheriff's reassurances in the car and doubt clenched his heart in a vice-like grip: would anything he did now be enough, or was it a case of too little, too late?

He looked back towards the doors which led to the operating theatre. Jess had only been inside those walls for a matter of minutes, really but already it seemed like an eternity. He hadn't regained consciousness as they had wheeled him in. Luke could see the worry in the doctors' faces, lining their brows and creasing the corners of their mouths. Or perhaps he had just imagined it? It was hard to tell when your mind was numb but your heart was racing. Too much confusion.

The sound of footsteps from further down the corridor immediately drew Luke's attention. He leapt to his feet, instinctively. Side by side with a purposeful gait, Alex Conibear strode towards him, a short, auburn-haired young nurse struggling to keep pace. She held in her hands a clipboard of notes. Conibear merely held a grim expression. Luke knew the man had disappeared off as soon as the ambulance doors had slammed shut but he hadn't asked to where. Now, as they both made directly for him, he moved to meet them halfway.

Conibear spoke first. "How's Jess doing? They tell me he's gone into surgery." Luke shrugged, helplessly.

"It's too soon to tell anything. But they said they'd come out when there was news." He cast a quick, hopeful glance at the nurse by Conibear's side but if she knew anything further, then she wasn't there to say it and she simply looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

Alex nodded and indicated that they should go back to the row of padded plastic chairs that Luke had been occupying. Once re-seated, the sheriff continued. "Fire department has got the flames under control. It was all but out when I left. Can't imagine there's much left though. They're going to send someone in to retrieve that man's body when it's safe." He paused a second, eyeing Luke appraisingly. "Was Jess able to tell you anything on the ride over?"

Luke shook his head, wearily. "He never regained consciousness. They reckon it's the smoke and the shock. His leg…" He trailed off, not needing or really wanting to say any more. Alex nodded, thoughtfully.

"The man in the barn, it's not Franklin." Luke nodded. He hadn't got a good look but the build and what he could make out of the colouring had not spoken of Mariano senior. Luke waited for Alex to continue, sensing there was more to come. He wasn't wrong. "I've had a deputy swing by his house, off duty. Franklin's been clearly spotted moving around." Luke's muscles tensed. The man was almost within arms' reach, unscathed, unconcerned, carrying on with his business while the world burned around him. It was almost more than Luke could bear. The injustice of everything that creature had inflicted on Luke and his family!

At this point however, the nurse, who had been waiting as patiently as she could, now interrupted. "Sir," she said, addressing Luke and moving to stand in-between where Luke and Conibear sat, facing each other. "I have some more forms for you to fill in. I'm assuming you're the young man's legal guardian?"

Luke was so quick to begin to answer _yes_ that it took him a few seconds to register the truth of their situation. What was he any more? The nurse noted his hesitation and raised a querulous eyebrow. "I'm assuming you _are_?" She glanced over briefly to the sheriff. "Is there someone else I should be contacting, because legally…" The young woman trailed off, tapping her pen lightly against the forms.

Luke's heart lurched in his chest and he held his breath, eyes fixed on the sheriff. They couldn't do this to him, not now, not after everything he and the kid had been through. They couldn't sweep Jess away from him and in to the arms of monster. _Again_. Whatever had happened to Jess tonight, whatever fate had befallen him, Luke damned well knew it was no accident.

He watched Conibear hesitating, clear eyes glancing down in a moment of consternation. Finally, he looked back up, addressing the nurse directly. "There are some child-protection issues I'm dealing with in regards to his legal guardian. Until the matter's cleared up, Franklin Mariano is not to have physical access to the boy. I'll be sending one of my men down here to keep an eye on things." Luke let out a small sigh of relief. The young nurse simply nodded and made some notes on Jess' file.

"Who should we refer to then?" she asked, eyes still scanning the notes in Jess' file as she ticked a few more boxes. This time, Alex didn't hesitate.

"This man is his uncle. He'll be acting as proxy for the immediate future." He didn't even bother to see if Luke agreed as he already knew the answer. The woman nodded once more and made another annotation on the form. Then she looked up and smiled reassuringly at Luke.

"I have a couple of details I need to you to fill in about medical history until we can track down his previous records. Would you mind?" She held out the papers to him, having already marked out the areas she needed him to see. Luke took the papers from her, glad to have something to do. "Thank you," she said. "I'll make sure they keep you updated on your nephew's progress as soon as there's any news to tell. But please don't worry – he's in very good hands."

And with that, she stood and left the two men alone, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking softly back down the hallway. They watched her departure. When she was safely back in the nurses' station, Luke immediately rounded on an unsurprised Conibear. "You _know_ this was him!" he insisted, hotly, eyes dark and jaw tight. "He did this to Jess! I don't care that it wasn't him in that barn. I'll give everything I own that he worked for Mariano! I can't just _sit here_ and…" The veins in his neck began to bulge and a murderous expression came over his face as Luke began to rise out of his seat.

A firm hand on his shoulder suddenly forced him back down, however, its pressure rooting him back into the moment. When he looked into them, Alex's eyes were firm and hard. "_Yes_, you can. And you will. You have to Mr. Danes. I have a job to do and believe me, I intend to do it. But I can't have you getting in the way. There's a right way and a wrong way to go about this and I'm not having anyone go blazing in when's there's more passion than common sense leading them on." He watched the emotions war across Luke's face.

"I've _tried_ doing things the right way," the other man snapped, desperately, "and look where it got me – where it got _Jess_!" He shot a hand out, indicating the cold, clinical walls that currently separated him from his nephew. But even as he spoke, emotions tearing at his heart and brain, Luke knew the sheriff was right. He felt the air deflate inside him. Luke felt the cold air seep through him as the fire and warmth of his anger leeched out from his veins.

Conibear watched, still cautious, still alert. But his tone had softened, just a fraction. "You have my word that I will do what's necessary to make things right. I will protect your nephew, I promise you. I have to go and speak to Franklin. He won't be allowed to see Jess for now." Luke silently registered _the for_ now part with a steely grimness. He knew damned well only a court order could permanently sever the guardianship that Franklin currently held over his nephew. A part of his brain struggled to start working through the logistics of fixing that problem. But Conibear was still talking, drawing most of his attention back.

"I'd suggest you get some rest while Jess is in surgery and then take the time to just be with him for a while. That's the best way you can help the kid at the moment."

Luke sighed, wearily, feeling a decade older in the space of an hour. "When he's better," Luke asked, "can I take him out of here? Take him home?" Conibear paused a moment.

"Let's concentrate on one thing at a time. Get him fighting fit."

Luke looked again at the doors to the OR. He sighed again. "Sure." Conibear nodded and it was clear the man was ready to leave.

"I hope Jess comes out soon. He sounds like a great kid. I'm looking forward to getting to talk to him, finally." Luke let out a snort of a laugh.

"Enjoy that notion while it lasts. I love the kid to death but I'll be paying him to shut up ten minutes in to the first sarcastic argument." A fond smile tugged up the corners of his mouth and settled there for the first time in over a day.

Alex chuckled as he placed his hat on his head. "You've got to be the first parent I've seen who grins at the prospect of an argument with their teenager. See? Miracles happen all the time." Then he tipped his hat quickly and left, without another word.

Luke followed his departure for a few seconds before leaning back against the chair and closing his eyes. His rough hands lightly fingered the paperwork, exhaustion swept over him as adrenaline drained from his body but still, Luke's small smile remained. Finally, _finally_, he was back with Jess again and nothing was going to keep them apart this time.

* * *

The first thing Jess became aware of was his body. He was in his body and it seemed…whole. There were some parts still numb and others where he could register pain but not pin a precise location down. But as the last conscious thought he had involved flames and mutilated bodies and smoke and choking, Jess was simply relieved to feel pain at all. It meant he still existed and he had, over the years, become reliant on pain to prove to himself that very, crucial point.

The second thing to draw his mind to the conscious world was the realisation that he was lying on something soft. His environment was quiet – eerily quiet and very, very still. He had felt a moment of stillness in his last memory, he realised, but it had been tinged with a feeling of sadness and acceptance. This was different – it held a weighty presence, a security. Dimly, Jess realised he should open his eyes. He tried to obey his own command but found his eyelids were so very, very heavy.

But he simply must. A nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him that he wasn't supposed to be lying there – that he should get up, keep moving . They found you when you were still. Or did they like it when you ran? Jess couldn't remember. His brain wasn't co-operating and he just wanted to sleep. Only he wasn't allowed to – wasn't supposed to. He forced his eyes open a crack, though the movement felt alien and protracted. The surrounding light seemed dim, muted and Jess tried to work out whether he knew the place or not.

Something suddenly touched his shoulder and Jess tried to flinch, though his body's responses were sluggish. But the touch did not move and Jess began to panic. He twisted to move away and felt his pain intensify for a moment. Then there was a voice, calm and soothing. "Jess, just relax." And so he did, melting back into the softness beneath him. "I've got you, Jess." The hand moved from his shoulder and began to smooth the hair gently on the top of his head, running down his scalp. With each pass, it seemed to draw the tension right out of him. "Just relax," the warm voice repeated. The hand continued to stroke and Jess sighed contentedly and settled the weight of his head into it. His eyes had closed some time ago though Jess hadn't noticed when. Then he slept, content that he was now supposed to.

The next time Jess opened his eyes, he found they moved much more freely. Blinking several times to adjust to the brighter lighting in the room, Jess squinted and looked around him. Seeing the white curtains, the pale walls, the clinical sheets and the IV stand by his bed, he immediately recognised what he had been trying to piece together in his last waking moments: he was in a hospital somewhere. How did he get there? Jess struggled to remember. Casting his mind back over the minefield of the last few days, Jess recalled the car journey, his uneasy feeling, his flight into the darkness and…with a jolt Jess was suddenly propelled right back into the burning building, flames licking at his heels, his legs crushed and pinned.

He gasped for air, eyes wide with panic and his hands gripped the starched bed-sheets beneath him. However the moment passed as quickly as it came. He closed his eyes a second to rebalance his emotions and when he opened them again, he felt in control once more. A soft snore suddenly caught Jess' attention. There was someone else in the small room with him. Jess turned to look in the corner of the room, where the sound had come from. When he saw who was seated in the chair, head leaned up against the wall, his breath caught in his throat. Luke.

His memories of the fire were somewhat hazy and Jess hadn't dared to believe that the highly unlikely presence of his uncle had been anything more than a muddled hallucination. After all, why would Luke come? Sure, maybe he'd got the letter Jess had secretly posted but even then, Jess hadn't really thought Luke would come all the way to Nebraska to find him. And even if he _had_, how in the hell did he run in to him in the middle of no-where? None of it made any sense and Jess was pretty sure it wasn't just the trauma from the fire that was confusing him.

But as improbable as it was, there Luke sat, slumped back in his chair, head back and cap half covering his face. Jess drank in the sight of him. His uncle's familiar scent seemed to fill the room and the older man's simple presence made him feel strong and at the same time, protected. Jess felt an ache form in his chest and throat. He watched the man carefully. His face seemed drawn and weary. He couldn't be sure if those lines across his brow had been that deep before. His clothes were rumpled and sooty. His uncle looked…tired, _aged_.

Jess swallowed as shame crept into him. This wasn't the same man he remembered leaving. What on earth could have happened to him while he had been away? Jess recalled his departure, his ingratitude and the betrayed anger in Luke's eyes. He winced and once more shame and guilt stabbed repeatedly at his heart. Jess felt tears prick at his eyes. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve Luke. He _deserved_ Franklin Mariano, Jess suddenly realised and the thought made the tears start to slowly fall.

It was painful, it was hard and the pain lancing through his chest, Jess was fairly certain, was not medically related. But even so, despite this, Jess could not look away from Luke. He was _here_. For whatever reason, for however long he stayed, his uncle was here and at this point in his life, that was the only thing that still mattered.

* * *

When Luke awoke, mildly annoyed that his body had betrayed him and he had fallen asleep during his vigil, his annoyance quickly melted as he was met by a very welcoming sight. Jess was awake. The boy was slightly turned to face him, as best he could with his leg in traction, and his dark eyes were quietly regarding him.

Luke smiled and leaned forwards, lifting up his cap to run a hand through his hair. "Hey," he greeted the boy, softly. Jess blinked and seemed to draw in his bottom lip. But he didn't reply. Perhaps his throat was hurting? Luke wondered. Was he allowed to give him water? Glancing at the table beside the bed, Luke spotted a jug and plastic cup. The water looked fresh so Luke assumed it was meant for Jess. Carefully, he eased himself out of the chair and moved to the jug, pouring his nephew a cup.

He held it out to Jess. "Here. Why don't you take a drink? Probably need some water after all that smoke." Luke watched, concerned as Jess made no move to take the cup. The boy glanced down at the sheets and shifted slightly on the bed, turning until he was flat on his back once more. "You want me to put it by your bed?" Luke asked. Jess gave a small shrug so Luke took that as an affirmative.

Then he moved back to his chair and dragged it forwards until it was next to Jess' bed and re-seated himself. He couldn't help but grin as he stared at the boy, lying there whole and real. "Jess," he said, gently, leaning forwards to place a hand on his arm. The arm tensed fractionally but nothing more. Luke was used to this so he left his hand where it was and squeezed lightly. Jess glanced up at him and then away again. His expression was imploring, guarded and spoke of something desperate that the teenager wanted to say. Or maybe to hear? Luke was a little out of practice in reading Jess.

"Jess," he said again, "why didn't you wake me?" For a second, his nephew's haunted eyes rose to meet his own and the boy's lips pressed tightly together. When he answered, his voice was cracked and husky.

"I didn't know what to say." He winced in pain as his throat burned. Instantly, Jess began to reach for his water but Luke was carefully guiding his fingers around the cup before he could even search it out. "Take small sips," the older man advised as Jess eagerly allowed the cooling liquid to ease his tortured throat. When Luke felt Jess had had his fill, he gently tugged the cup away from his lips. Jess resisted for only a second before allowing Luke control, at least temporarily.

Luke smiled approvingly at Jess as he set the cup back down. "Better?" he asked. Jess nodded and started to push himself more upright with his elbows. Immediately, Luke was there, helping him, lifting him slightly and propping more pillows behind him until eventually, Jess was sitting up, at least as far as his leg allowed him.

Jess glanced over at his leg. He had been avoiding looking at it properly since waking. It was plastered and bandaged, concealing the visible signs of damage. A dull ache had begun to throb through his mid-thigh. But Jess kept quiet. He didn't want any more drugs. They stopped him thinking clearly and, without knowing how long Luke was staying for, Jess did not want to return to his earlier mental haze.

"They said it was a comminuted open fracture." Luke supplied, seeing his nephew's hesitant examination. "I have no idea what that means. They tied off some blood vessels, pinned some things together." Noting the boy's raised eyebrows, he shrugged. "At least it's still attached," he offered. "You need to keep exercising it and everything but I'm sure it will heal just fine. We'll work out the details when we get home."

Jess glanced back at sheets across his lap as Luke continued. "They patched up the hole in your leg from that wooden spike, too though I didn't even want to _know_ the details of that one." He shuddered at the memory and reasoned that Jess probably didn't want to dwell on the topic much, either.

"You're going to be fine, though," Luke assured him and gave his arm a gentle pat. "They've re-set your shoulder however, so it'll make using crutches a little difficult. You'll probably have to be in a wheelchair so don't give me any grief about that!" he warned, jamming a cautionary finger in Jess' face. "You will accept it with your usual good grace and just get on with it." Inwardly though, he was wincing at the thought of manoeuvring a wheelchair around their tiny apartment but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

When Jess' silence continued, it began to concern Luke. He knew his nephew was quiet but he had honestly expected a little more communication than this, even if it was spent trading barbs or sarcastic comments. But instead the boy had his head inclined away from him, his chin bowed to his chest. Luke noted the strain and tension across the kid's shoulders and running down his arms.

"Jess?" he questioned, leaning more into his personal space. "Son? You okay?" Jess spared him a very quick look and a hasty nod before looking away again. Even for just a second, Luke could clearly see his nephew's eyes were bright, his expression pale and tight. He glanced over at the door where doctors were waiting, no doubt ready to intrude on their reunion at the first signal. Was it time to call them over now? Was he being selfish, wanting more time alone with Jess?

"Are you in pain, Jess?" he asked quietly, aware that admitting weakness was not something the boy relished. "Do you need me to get someone?" But Jess forcefully shook his head, his shoulders hunching and his breath hitching in a sudden gasp. "Jess?" Luke placed a calming hand on the boy's shoulder and began to rub soothing circles with his thumb. "What's the matter?" His voice was soft and insistent. His thumb continued to rub and he could feel tension begin to give way to tremors.

Jess mumbled something Luke couldn't quite make out and so he leaned in a little closer to his face. "What was that?" Jess took another sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Home?" he mumbled in a small, strained voice. "We're going home?" And like a curtain lifting, Luke suddenly saw the problem. His heart clenched as he sighed and shook his head. Their collective cluelessness was crippling sometimes.

Firmly, Luke moved his hand from Jess' shoulder and placed it under Jess' chin, pinning his jaw between his fingers. Then he moved Jess' head up so they were facing each other. "Jess, for a smart kid you can be all kinds of stupid. _Yes_, we're going home. To Stars Hollow and our over-crowded apartment. Just try and go anywhere else!" He gave the head a gentle shake as Jess finally looked directly at him, tears heavy and threatening to fall. "Why would you think anything else?"

He released Jess' chin, confident that the boy would communicate with him now.

"I wasn't even sure you would come in the first place," the kid muttered. "Even if you got my letter." At that, Luke looked surprised.

"What letter?"

Jess looked a little embarrassed. "Doesn't matter. Why would you even come here then?"

Luke tried not to sound exasperated but he failed miserably. "Why do you _think_, Jess? It's what families _do_." He noted Jess had not yet asked about his grandfather but Luke didn't want to push that issue himself yet, either.

The boy shrugged. His fingers toyed with the sheets. "I didn't exactly give you a good reason to want to talk to me again. Wasn't sure you'd bother." Luke sighed again and ran a hand across his tired face, leaning back in his chair. His nephew regarded him cautiously.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't on best form either that day." He fixed the boy with an honest look, willing the channels of communication to stay open long enough to fix whatever bridges needed fixing. "I'm sorry. I didn't handle things as well as I should have. By the time I realised I was being an ass, it was too late." He paused a moment, watching the boy. Jess looked down to his lap and seemed to be contemplating something, weighing up his words, or perhaps deciding if he should speak at all. This time, Luke allowed the silence, sensing Jess needed it. He simply sat and waited as the clock on the wall gently ticked.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, Jess spoke, hesitantly. "I think maybe…I think maybe I didn't really know what I was doing." He kept his eyes down. Luke's gut lurched. He wanted to shush the kid, take him into his arms and reassure him that it didn't need to be said, that he understood. But saying this was painful to Jess and necessary and Luke knew he needed to give the kid the respect he deserved to say his piece. So he stayed quiet and watched without judgement.

Jess' small voice continued in a wrought confession, layered with a hard edge that he didn't feel. "But I was going to do it, you know? Be a man. Sorry I couldn't do that for you. I just wanted to _fix_ something, you know? For once in my life be the damned _solution_ instead of the _problem_." The bitterness in his words momentarily strengthened his voice. For the first time in a long time, he looked his uncle square in the eyes and Luke tried not to show his reaction to the mixture of anger, self-loathing and raw pain that he saw shining in them. What had Mariano managed to do to the boy in such a short amount of time?

"I screwed up. Like always." His nerve seemed to abandon him and Jess glanced away again. "S'not like I'm surprised or anything it's just…I thought I knew what bad was." He trailed off after the quiet admission and when Luke recognised the lingering silence for what it was, he leaned forwards once more and took a gentle hold of Jess' wrist. He gave it a light shake.

"You remember what being a kid means? The whole adult versus kid relationship? Not your job, kid. This 'knowing what's best' deal? That's _my_ job. You hear me? Not yours. Screwing up is just a huge part of growing up and despite what I know you believe, that's something you're still doing." Luke squeezed Jess' wrist and was rewarded with a hesitant smile from the boy. With a soft laugh, Luke gently wrapped his knuckles against Jess' head. "What did I say about that _all kinds of stupid_ thing you seem to have going for you at the moment?" he asked, fondly.

Jess shrugged. "That's okay. I'm actually glad to have something I inherited from the Danes rather than the Marianos." Luke laughed and leaned forwards to ruffle Jess' dark hair.

"So sweet and so insulting in the same breath. See? I've missed your candour, wit and casual insults. When we get home, we can start trading them again. Like baseball cards." Jess didn't quite smile – he wasn't quite up to it and Luke could see the hesitation, the insecurities, the pain still aching to be healed. And Luke wanted to do nothing more in that moment than to wipe out the last few weeks, to blot away the experiences of last night and to try to build back the faith Jess had lost. He'd had such precious little to begin with.

From where he sat, eyes still downcast, Jess noticed the change in Luke, the shift of energy as he began to rise from his chair. Something tightened inside of him and Jess willed his pride not to sabotage what his instincts were screaming for. He made a vain attempt at rolling his eyes. "We really don't have to hug, you know."

But Luke was already sitting on the mattress beside him and had pulled the boy towards him, wrapping him securely in his arms until his head was tucked under Luke's chin. He felt his uncle chuckle. "I know," the man admitted. "But seeing as how you can't get away right now, I'm savouring the power." He raked his fingers through the unruly mop of his nephew's hair. "When I'm done with this, I'm getting your hair cut, too."

Despite his protestations, he made no move to pull away. His uncle's shirt still smelt slightly of that particular mixture of aftershave and frying oil and Jess unconsciously buried his face into it. Luke's shoulder felt firm and solid – it fitted him perfectly. "It's okay, Jess," Luke murmured. "I've got you now, kiddo. I've got you now."

* * *

That's it for now. Thanks for reading!


	27. Chapter 27

Fire and Ice: Chapter 27

Standard disclaimer applies. The end is finally nigh!

* * *

In the late morning sun, the imposing gates glinted and the white pillars by the front door stood gleaming. The house, if such a thing were possible, seemed at peace with itself and its occupants. The air was calm but a sense of foreboding rippled beneath the surface.

Alex's patrol car had been granted access without any preamble and he and his deputy approached the Mariano mansion without any apparent urgency. Conibear wanted the old man to see his approach. He wanted him to wonder. Hell, he wanted him to suffer but that was part of the reason for bringing along his deputy. Brad Wilkins was effectively holding his self-imposed leash, should common sense fail him and his impulsive temper rear its ugly head. Young Jess Mariano had passed a relatively peaceful night, according to his uncle but the image of the bruised, bloodied and broken boy in the hospital bed last night sent another wave of anger through him.

The metallic slam of the car doors reverberated across the stone courtyard as the two men started towards the stone steps of the front door, Conibear in the lead and Wilkins flanking him. He rapped firmly on the front door and it swung open almost immediately. Like them it seemed, Franklin appeared unflustered.

The cagy old man stood, leaning against the banister of his grand staircase. His suit was sharp and neatly pressed, a silver clip glinting around his neck-tie. His weathered face appeared void of its usual deep lines and his keen eyes twinkled mockingly. He had an air about him of absolute ease as he held out a hand, waving the sheriff and his deputy inside. The smugness was overbearing – it permeated through the air like a fog and mingled with the scent of fresh-cut flowers.

When the door had closed behind them, Franklin spoke, his voice smooth and low. "Sheriff. Good of you to come by. I can only assume you're here to clear up this ridiculous misunderstanding between the hospital staff and myself. I spoke to the hospital administrator this morning who had the impertinence to inform me that I was still unable to see my own grandson. Though I'm very relieved to hear that young Jess is out of danger and recovering so well." He sighed and shook his head, sadly. "If I had only known how unreliable the boy's driver was, I never would have allowed him to go."

Conibear glanced down to see a subtle hand on his arm. Wilkins had placed it there when he had started forward at the conniving man's words. Alex checked himself with great effort: he hadn't even realised he had moved until his deputy called him back.

Franklin's smile showed he had noted the silent exchange between the two lawmen. "Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty." Conibear gave a curt nod, forcing himself to remain polite for the time being.

"So you had no reason to doubt your man?" He exchanged a brief look with Wilkins and the man quickly brought out a notepad and flipped it open, pen in hand. Franklin paused fractionally when he saw this but quickly recovered.

"None whatsoever. He had served me well for over ten years. But, as I understand it, that tragic fire was an accident? Unless you have information that you're withholding?" His innocent smile reminded Conibear of a crocodile but he resisted the impulse to smack it off his face. Instead, he kept his tone calm, polite and measured.

"That's what the fire chief is saying," he confirmed. "Though Jess describes a different turn of events." Franklin nodded.

"I'm sure he does. Can't quite work out why he disappeared in the first place but it sure does seem as though something spooked the kid. Creepy old barn in the middle of the night – I guess it can happen." The man gave a one-shouldered shrug and straightened himself from the railing. "Now, to the business at hand." He fixed a steely glare on Conibear. "I expect access to my grandson restored to me by the end of the day or you'll be hearing from my lawyers. I trust this won't be a problem?"

It was Alex's turn to smile. "We have a few issues to clear up before that happens. I'm sure you won't mind helping with our enquiries." Franklin hardened his gaze while Alex carried on. "The accident in the barn not withstanding, Jess has some previous injuries that I need an explanation for." Franklin waved away his question with one hand.

"I assure you, I haven't laid a finger on the boy. It was an honest mistake on behalf of one of my security staff who thought he was breaking in. The man has been reprimanded for this mistake and it won't happen again. Now was there anything else because I'm getting a little tired of getting the third degree from you people without anything that I like to call proof." He stopped and gave a near snarl. "You people do remember what proof and evidence _are_, don't you? Because as far as I can see, you have nothing concrete to lay on me at all. Just a lot of mindless, baseless accusations."

The small smile Conibear was giving him and the lack of a verbal response from the sheriff was unnerving Franklin just a little but he still continued. "I realise, Sheriff, that if you sling enough mud at me then eventually, some of it's bound to stick but that's also going to take a very long time to take. And in the meantime, until you have something solid to hang on me, I'd like you to leave my property, sort out this mess with my custody access that your people have caused and then leave me in peace."

He folded his arms and waited, poised like a fox by the chicken coop. He watched as Alex turned to his deputy and flipped to an earlier page in the notebook, running his finger down a list on the page. Presently, the sheriff looked up.

"That's very true Franklin and I'm curious what a look round this house of yours would tell us on that score."

Franklin snorted away his comment. "I'll not be extending you that invitation and you need a hell of a lot more than rumours and wild conjecture to get a warrant for that." He watched as Conibear turned to his deputy and exchanged a regretful look with the man.

"You're right," Alex said, mildly.

"He's right, Sir." Wilkins agreed, nodding. Franklin grinned, his white teeth showing in neat rows.

"Yes sir, I would need to have evidence of an actual crime," Conibear continued. "And, as you've pointed out, there is nothing so far that links what happened to your grandson to you or indeed to anything other than a freak accident at this point in time." Franklin nodded his agreement but something about the way Conibear was still hovering was making him nervous and annoying the hell out of him at the same time.

Innocently, Conibear turned to Wilkins and asked. "I can't look round without that, can I?"

"No Sheriff," Wilkins replied. "You can't."

"Right!" Franklin agreed anger finally breaking through his calm façade. "So if you gentlemen are done stating the obvious then I'll thank you to get the hell out of here!" He stalked over the front door and swung it open, stepping aside to give them room to pass through. These games were tiresome and he was done being hospitable.

Conibear raised an eyebrow at the loss of control which served to make Franklin glower even more, then smiled at his deputy. "I guess we'd better go then, Wilkins." But as he turned to go, he suddenly stopped and a thoughtful expression came over his face.

"Unless, of course…" He trailed off and reached a hand in to the inside pocket of his jacket. Franklin froze by the door, hand still resting on the handle.

"Unless _what_?" he demanded, sharply. "I'm done playing your stupid games."

"Now this is interesting," Conibear continued, a glint in his eyes as he tapped the paper in his hand. "I had a very interesting talk with a man called…" he glanced over at the notepad, "Clarence Bigwell. Seems you met him with your nephew a while back in a place called Stars Hollow."

Franklin's jaw tightened as his stomach began to knot itself in two. His knuckles turned white as they gripped the door handle tightly.

Seemingly oblivious to this, Conibear continued, reading off his notes as he did so. "It seems he's less than happy with a purchase he made from you and you know what else? I managed to track down an associate of yours who was more than happy to talk to me when I explained a few things to him."

"I'll bet," Franklin growled, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"In any event," Conibear continued, "I have enough to arrest you on suspicion of fraud." He nodded to Wilkins. "If you'll do the honours, deputy? And don't forget to read him his rights clearly – I don't want any misunderstandings." Franklin sputtered in outrage as Wilkins moved towards him. Instantly, he backed up, pressed hard against the doorframe and his wild eyes darted fractionally to the courtyard. However, Conibear's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You wouldn't be thinking of adding resisting arrest to the charges, would you? Because I have a sneaky suspicion I could take you down and you know what? I reckon I would still be able to sleep at night, too." Conibear's eyes were no longer glinting. They were cool and hard.

Franklin stayed where he was, a snake desperate to strike, as the handcuffs snapped around his bony wrists. He tuned out the sound of his Miranda rights being read in the low, monotonous tone of the law and instead focused his seething on the sheriff, standing smugly before him. As the deputy finished his spiel, Conibear nodded towards him.

"Get him the car," he almost spat. Franklin was turned around, choosing to remain as silent as possible until he had a lawyer present. However, as Wilkins moved them to the steps, Conibear called out. "Oh, and just one more thing." Franklin turned back to him, warily. "Since getting a warrant for your arrest, I spoke to Judge Barrell, who happens to be a good friend of mine, and secured a warrant to search your property and computers too. We'll be looking for any more evidence related to the interesting things Mr. Bigwell, Mr Danes and your associate told me about."

With great satisfaction, he watched the old man's withered upper lip draw up into a snarl. "I'm sure, like me, you're very curious to see what we'll find." He opened the paper up and held it out for Franklin to inspect. The old man's eyes barely flitted down to the paper however as he was more intent with holding Conibear's gaze in pure contempt. Conibear stood in the threshold of Mariano's doorway, watching, as did the stunned household staff, as the old man was led away and guided into the waiting car.

* * *

Luke could hardly contain his excitement when he got off the phone with Conibear. The old man was in custody, arrangements had been made for a court hearing to have his physical custody revoked and until that time, Luke had been granted permission to take the boy home. He could scarcely believe it but, for all intents and purposes, it was over! He finally had Jess back and this time he would never allow anything other than a good college to send the boy away from him again.

As he replaced the receiver of the reception's phone back in its cradle, Luke allowed himself to flop down onto one of the nearby chairs in the waiting room. It was over. He tried hard to let the realisation sink in and as it did so, trickling through his mind and body, he began to shake with relief and exhaustion. Removing his cap with one hand, he ran the other hand through his hair and then over his face, wincing as he realised how badly needed to shave. Nothing however, could stop the huge grin that plastered itself over his face. He felt quite maniacal, grinning like a Cheshire cat but Luke didn't care.

Jess had been asleep all morning but the doctors assured him it was to be expected and that, considering what the kid had gone through, he was doing well. Luke had been given so much medical information to care for him once he was released that he felt he could almost walk away from this experience with a medical degree of his own.

After returning to his motel for a quick shower, shave and change Luke was back at the hospital sitting by Jess' bed. Jess had awoken just shortly before Luke had returned to the hospital but he didn't appear to have been too concerned when his uncle wasn't there. With any luck, Luke hoped, the kid's abandonment issues were on the way out. Jess had been groggy and slow to wake at first so when Luke breezed into the room, feeling so much lighter and happier than he had in weeks, he had been forced to wait a good thirty minutes until Jess had been conscious enough to have the conversation he'd been longing to have since talking to the sheriff.

Finally, however, after waiting while nurses took Jess' vitals and hooked him up with a new IV, Luke was left alone with his nephew and was able to give him the news. At first, he wasn't sure if Jess had heard him correctly because the boy made no immediate response. Instead he sat, propped up against pillows, staring silently at his blankets.

"Jess?" Luke began, uncertainly, "did you hear what I said?" Jess glanced up and nodded, his expression still too guarded for Luke's liking.

"Yeah," he said softly. "It's over." He repeated the words silently in his head and Luke watched the different expressions fleet across his face: disbelief, confusion, anger, hope. He watched the boy's jaw tighten, his expression cloud over into something altogether unreadable. Jess' eyes met his. "You're sure?" _You're not lying_, was the underlying message which Luke read clearly. He nodded, firmly. "I spoke to Alex Conibear earlier. I'm sure you'll like him when you meet him."

"I _have_ met him," Jess interrupted. "Outside Franklin's on the first day I moved in." Luke nodded, lightly.

"That's right." He paused. "He came by last night while you were sleeping to check up on you." Jess simply shrugged, unsure of how to feel about that, if he should feel anything at all. Luke had told him about his dealings with the man and everything that had transpired up to that point and Jess had filled him in with his own stories but still, lawmen and Jess would never be forming any kind of bond as far as he was concerned. That the sheriff had been to see him while he slept only felt…creepy. But he didn't want to start an argument with Luke so Jess kept quiet on the issue.

"Can they prove anything?" Jess asked and watched, knowingly, as Luke hesitated.

"They will," his uncle assured him. "They're searching his whole house, looking in to his financial records, his computer. Conibear reckons once they get one client, others will come forward. That's usually how it works. Don't worry," he insisted. "Franklin's not going anywhere any time soon."

Jess thought about this for a moment, his eyes still downcast. Then he looked up at Luke. "And I can come home with you?" Luke nodded.

"Nothing's going to stop that," he said, resolutely and for once Jess believed him without question.

"And this was all for money?" He shook his head. "It's all a little clichéd isn't it?" Luke just shrugged. "Can't argue with the classics." He watched as Jess chuckled. "But assuming the lawyers get everything straightened out," Luke continued, "it means you have to start thinking ahead, making some plans for what you're going to do with it all when you eventually come in to it. Jess immediately rolled his eyes but Luke cut him off, firmly. "Jess, this could be a big deal for you later on. Don't dismiss it too soon, okay? Promise me you'll at least give it some thought."

"Fine!" the boy agreed with a huff. "But can we talk about something else now?"

Acquiescing easily, Luke nodded, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Why is it you never have a clue what to say to me when I actually half-way want to have a conversation?" Luke just shrugged.

"I could yell at you if you want? It might make things easier." But Jess shook his head.

"Without a convincing preamble, it just wouldn't be the same. What's happening back home?"

Luke raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Saints preserve us! You _want_ to hear about life in Stars Hollow?" He grinned as Jess' look became immediately defensive.

"Only so I can mock and come for-armed with things to annoy Taylor."

"Ah, well in that case," his uncle grinned, "let me fill you in on all the dramas that make up the days of our sordid little lives."

* * *

One week passed by and in that week, Jess had healed, his doctors reluctantly agreed, just enough to allow him to travel back home. It was the best news Jess had been greeted with all week and on the day before he was due to leave it was all Luke could do to stop him wheeling himself out on his own.

Instead, he tried his best to keep his nephew distracted.

"So have you decided what you want to do with that money yet?"

Jess shrugged and didn't look up from the notepad he was scribbling in. "Give it away."

But just as Luke opened his mouth to object, Jess quickly cut in. "I've made a list," he said, tearing off the top sheet of paper and holding it out to Luke. With a frown, the older man took the list from his nephew. He held it a little further from his face until his focus began to sharpen, hoping his nephew wouldn't notice. Of course Jess did and treated him to a raised eyebrow but mercifully, no comment.

"It's the smoke," Luke insisted, sharply. "It's still bothering my eyes." Then he looked at the paper again. Jess' normally neat handwriting was somewhat scrawled but he could still read it. When he looked back up again, the frown had returned. "I do not need a new wardrobe, Jess!"

The teenager shrugged, his dark hair framing his neutral, innocent expression. "What can I say? I'm a humanitarian Luke. Wealth has changed me." Luke rolled his eyes as he readjusted his position slightly on the mattress.

"The state of my shirts has no bearing on world hunger. I suggest you aim a little bigger if you're looking to go down in history." He watched as Jess smiled – an honest smile that lifted his face beautifully. "And this one," Luke continued, pointing to an item further down the list. "Believe me, I appreciate the sentiment…"

"Thought you might," his nephew agreed with a smirk.

"_But_," Luke continued, "I don't think a militia and Stars Hollow…go together. Even if it _is_ to run Taylor out of town."

"I didn't say _run him out_," Jess cut in.

Luke chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you said. It's still not happening Junior so make a start on the re-think." At that Jess threw his hands up in the air and the notepad went tumbling to the floor. "What's the point, Luke?" he demanded. "It's not like I can even _touch_ the money for years and even if I _could_, why do I need a single thing from that bastard!"

He was getting tired and Luke could see it now – the dark shadows under his eyes contrasting his pale features. Luke knew he could expect the boy to tire much more quickly now but it still unnerved him a little. "It's not _from_ Franklin," Luke reminded him gently leaning down to retrieve the notepad from the floor. He didn't hand it back to Jess. Instead, Luke tucked it away securely in the small bedside table as he discreetly began preparing to settle his nephew down to sleep. "It's from his brother, Nathanial."

"I don't care who he is!" Jess snapped. "I don't want anything to do with any of them." Luke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He understood how Jess felt. Jimmy's side of the family was, in Luke's eyes, nothing but trouble but he felt an alien need to calm the raging waters of his nephew's hatred for them.

"You feel that way now, Jess."

"And why shouldn't I?" the boy shot back, his eyes dark and dulled. His left hand had begun playing with the edges of his sling, a silent reminder of the Mariano legacy. And this second legacy? This inheritance? Who's to say it didn't come loaded with the same problems? It wasn't so much an inheritance as it was a damned curse! His leg began to twitch as a sharp pain stabbed its way through it. Jess bit his lip, hard and closed his eyes.

"Jess?" Luke asked, gently, leaning forwards slightly and resting a warm hand on his nephew's arm. "Do you want something for the pain?" What little colour had tinted Jess' face was quickly draining away leaven his features pinched and drawn. He watched as Jess gave another quick gasp and then clamped his mouth shut tightly and shook his head.

"Jess," Luke pressed on, a little more firmly. "You're not doing yourself any favours and staying this way is pointless. You need to sleep and you can't sleep when you're in pain." He watched Jess scowl though he couldn't be sure whether that was from the mention of sleep or the need for drugs. Jess had been doggedly against them since his admittance and it was a small battle to use the self-administering button the doctors had set up to allow Jess to control his own pain-relief.

Finally, Jess seemed to gain enough control to be able to speak. "I don't need to sleep." But his body was already sagging against the pillows that propped him up against the bed-head. The energy that had animated him earlier was seeping away again. Luke didn't bother to argue with him. Jess would prove his point for him in a matter of moments.

Carefully, Luke started to ease his nephew down flat on the bed and, as he had suspected, Jess didn't put up much of a resistance. Luke then pressed the button by Jess' bed, allowing the pain-relieving medication to flow through the IV. It wasn't long before the tension in Jess' muscles began to relax and Luke let out a tense breath of his own. It pained him to watch the teenager suffer and, deep down, he knew he could consider his actions as selfish. Luke slid off the mattress and pulled up the small chair from the side of the room. As he sat, he carefully ran his fingers through Jess' dark curls, watching in relief as the boy's eyes slid shut and his breathing began to even out.

"Just sleep, Jess," Luke assured him. "We can talk about the money later." He continued to stroke Jess' head as the young man drifted off into a much-needed sleep and as Jess slept, Luke withdrew the plane tickets from inside his jacket pocket and held them tightly in his hand. The next morning, God-willing, he would finally be taking his nephew home.

* * *

Luke had foolishly thought the plane-ride was the hardest part of keeping his nephew's impatience at bay. He was wrong. The drive to Stars Hollow had been torturous and when he finally pulled up in front of the diner, Luke was uncertain how he and the truck had escaped unscathed. However, as he walked round the front of the truck and pulled Jess' door open he was surprised to see the boy hesitate. It was late afternoon and the return of his truck to the town had caused several heads to turn and whisper as he parked out front.

"Jess?" he prompted. The teenager suddenly appeared unsure of himself, his hands playing with his crutches. Despite the injury to his shoulder, it was healing well and Jess had persuaded those who probably should have known better that he was more than capable of using crutches as opposed to being forced into a wheelchair.

But now he seemed to be almost hiding behind them. "What's the matter? Do you need a hand getting out of the truck?" He'd been planning on helping the boy down anyway but perhaps Jess was too embarrassed to ask? But Jess answered his question unwittingly.

His words faltered for just a fraction of a second. "Nothing." He barked out a short, hard laugh. "Well this will piss the people off who thought they'd seen the end of me." And though Jess tried to play it nonchalant, Luke could still read the insecurities.

"They've missed you Jess." Jess snorted in disbelief but at least his apprehension seemed to be lessening. "Well," Luke amended, "according to Lorelai, who only showed up for your benefit, no-one raised any official protests about your return at the latest town meeting." Jess pursed his lips at the news, secretly impressed. He'd expected, maybe even hoped, for at least a petition.

"I'm touched." Jess deadpanned. "And slightly insulted. I'll need to rectify that in the near future." Luke laughed and reached up to help Jess down from the cab.

"I'm sure you'll terrify them, Peg-leg."

"I don't need full mobility to wreak havoc, you know." Jess grunted with pain as his uncle gently lowered him down to the ground before reaching back to retrieve his crutches.

"Patty and Babette could out-run you and bring you down with a little finger."

Jess inhaled sharply. "You wound me, Luke. Now are you going to help me up to the apartment or am I supposed to crawl up the stairs like a chick from a Japanese horror film?"

So, shaking his head, Luke slung one of Jess' bags over his shoulder while Jess tucked the crutches under one arm. Then, ever so carefully, he helped his nephew into the diner and up to their apartment.

It didn't surprise Luke that, once he had settled his nephew on to the couch and brought up the rest of their bags from the truck, Jess fell asleep almost immediately. He still tired so easily and the drugs he was on, coupled with the flight home had thoroughly wiped him out. While Luke had toyed with the idea of asking Caesar to bring something up from the diner's kitchen for them, Jess' eyes had gradually sealed themselves shut and his head flopped forwards until his chin rested snugly on his chest. His dark hair fanned across his eyes as his head fell to one side and the boy slid a little further down against the couch cushions.

Luke smiled as he watched him sleep. Jess' belongings were once again strewn across the apartment floor, this time because he had been trying to find his i-pod, buried under a mound of clothes in one of his bags. Luke felt a fond warmth spread through him even as he shook his head in mild disbelief. Some things, it seemed, would never change.

And so, with an almost reverent tenderness, Luke scooped his nephew into his arms and laid him on his bed, smoothing the hair away from his face and tucking the blankets securely around him. It was as though the kid had never left, he mused. The room was once again complete – it was whole. Luke sat back on his haunches for a moment and smiled. Now, whatever chaos Jess hurled his way, Luke knew he was ready and willing to face it head on.

* * *

Generally speaking, Jess was not a morning person. In fact, it was fair to say that he wasn't a getting up person. The day ahead of him never usually held enough appeal to propel him out of bed. But on this occasion, though the morning had just crept by into the midday mark, nothing could have kept Jess in bed even if it had tried.

"He isn't even a _little_ awake? I mean, he isn't mumbling incoherently in his sleep or turning fitfully or anything like that?" The earnest voice, so long forgotten, brought a smile to Jess' lips. God, how he'd missed it though Jess was loathe to admit that to anyone.

"I'm sorry, Rory," Luke said from where he and Rory stood by the apartment door. "But he hasn't stirred in hours. But I'll let you know the moment he's conscious and is doing more than grunting incoherently."

"I do not grunt incoherently," Jess protested, awkwardly sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Both Luke and Rory turned in surprise at the sound of his voice, a delighted yet suddenly bashful smile spreading over Rory's face. Luke just rolled his eyes. It was typical: his cooking, his cajoling, even a rather loud visit from Taylor hadn't stirred his nephew but a thirty second visit from this girl was all it took to wake the living dead.

Jess, for his part, had suddenly been overcome with his own bashfulness when he glanced down at himself and realised his helpful uncle had apparently put him to bed in nothing but a t-shirt and his boxers. Hastily he draped the blankets across his legs, the heavy cast preventing him from moving away.

The doctors in Stars Hollow were going to replace his cast with a load-bearing yet lighter version, as soon as his leg was ready. That day couldn't come fast enough in Jess' opinion. There was a damned itch half-way down his leg and it had been driving him crazy. He watched, willing his brain not to do something stupid and blurt out something he would soon regret, as Rory slowly made her way in to the room, encouraged by a nod and a smile from Luke.

"Well, he seems to be back in the land of the living," he told the girl, kindly. "Do you want any lunch while you're here?" Rory smiled but shook her head, her blue eyes brighter than Jess remembered.

"No thanks Luke. My mom's picking me up to go to my grandparents in about half an hour." She paused a second. "I just stopped by on the off-chance."

"Jess?" Luke called over to him. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Jess was about to reply with his automatic response of not being hungry before he thought better of it. Luke would never let him get away with not eating a meal, especially so soon out of the hospital. So he simply shrugged noncommittally causing Luke to resist a smirk. "I'll surprise you," the older man said before retreating to the kitchen and allowing the two teenagers some semblance of privacy.

Rory carefully settled herself an appropriate distance from Jess on his bed and smoothed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Jess found his breath was catching at just the familiar scent of her. "I'm glad you're home," she started, quietly. "It wasn't the same without you."

All Jess could do was nod though he realised that the gesture appeared quite conceited. He tried to respond with words. "I guess it's good to be back." He inwardly winced as he knew that hadn't sounded much better.

But Rory was trying hard not to stare at his mangled leg or the healing cuts on his face and arms and her own reply was quiet and sincere. "I know what you mean." She reached down into her bag and brought out a small leather book which took Jess a few moments to place. "I kept it safe for you," she said. "Thanks for lending it to me." She held it out to him and he hesitated a moment before taking the first edition _Nicholas Nickleby_ in his hands. God, how long ago and under what different circumstances had he last received this book, he wondered.

The book felt strangely treacherous in his hands again and Jess almost threw it back at her like it had bitten him. He wasn't sure he ever wanted her to show him this damned thing again but, knowing Rory's inert need to do the right thing, keeping the precious book that did not belong to her would have gone against every fibre in her being. Jess appreciated and respected that about her – it was just one of the many things that made Rory Gilmore an appealing, attractive and utterly unattainable girl in the murky world of Jess Mariano. But at the same time, Jess ached to have her understand how damaged people worked, without the need to explain and cause himself further embarrassment.

Instead, however, he accepted the book with a quiet, mumbled thanks and slipped it under the mattress, safely out of sight.

"There's that new film from Del Toro out," Rory continued. "When you're better, we should go see it."

Jess grinned slyly. "Don't need my legs to watch a movie." Rory's eager response brought an instant pang to his chest.

"Great! Are you free tomorrow?"

_She's not yours,_ a voice whispered to him. _You know you could never keep her_.

"I'll check my calendar but I may be able to squeeze you in." She laughed, lightly and Jess felt his chest constrict some more. In the kitchen he could hear Luke banging frying pans around and wondered how much the man could hear. Quietly he asked, "So how's Dean doing?" She was pulled up so short, Jess almost heard her gasp.

After a second she replied. "He's doing fine." Rory glanced down at her skirt. It was new. She hadn't even realised she was wearing a new outfit until that moment.

Jess, mere inches away from her, looked to the other side of the room and nodded. Rory could feel his withdrawal from the room though she wasn't sure why. Jess glanced over to the girl, ever so quickly. "I talked to him a little before I left." Then there was the briefest of hesitations. "He's still not the sharpest tool in the box but…he's alright. For a geek. I suppose." The silence hung heavy between them for a moment. Rory swung her feet from the bed and Jess' heart melted a little bit more. Damn her but she didn't even know what she did to him, what she represented in his life – the prize he could never aspire to. She was a drug that was slowly killing him, if he'd let her. Sometimes Jess thought it would be far easier in his life if Luke would just outright ban him from seeing her and be done with it. Luke may think he was doing it for Rory's protection but Jess couldn't help but feel it would be for his as well. In the end.

But no such proclamation came. Instead, Rory leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Then assuming you're not wheel-chair bound, I will pick you up tomorrow."

Jess smiled. "And even if I am, we can do a pretty good reenactment of _Rear Window_." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You bring the binoculars and we'll see what Taylor really gets up to in his spare time." She chuckled.

"You're on." At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. "That'll be my mom," Rory said and, sure enough, when Luke came from the kitchen to answer the door, Lorelai was waiting expectantly. "I'll see you tomorrow," Rory said and gave Jess a short wave as she turned to leave. "Bye Luke," she called as she passed him.

Luke smiled at her from over the kitchen counter. "Bye Rory. Have fun at your grandparents." The girl nodded and, as she walked past her mother, Lorelai quietly told her, "I'll see you in the car, Sweetie. I just need a minute." Looking mildly puzzled, Rory agreed and left them alone.

Once her daughter had left, Lorelai waited for no-one as she enveloped Luke in a crushing hug. He had half been expecting the physical contact but the force behind her hug surprised even him. However, having already put down the spatula and turned off the stove, Luke accepted her hug gladly. It felt so good to be able to draw from her strength again. Though he had spoken to his friend many times since Jess had been in hospital, there was something irreplaceable about being able to connect with her in this way.

"Hey," she whispered in his ear as she held him close. "You did it." And just before he released her, Luke whispered back, "Thanks to you." Then, before she could argue, he let her go and gave her his trademark awkward smile, signaling an end to their conversation for the time being.

Instead she grinned at him then patted him on the back. When she looked over to Jess, Lorelai's heart caught in her throat. Most of what Franklin Mariano had done was covered with bandages and plaster and bravado but Lorelai knew that the brunt of it was borne in the parts that no-one saw: in the heart and in the soul of a young man who just yearned to find someone to attach himself to without fear of repercussions.

Without waiting for an invitation, she walked over to Jess and sat down beside him. Jess had seen her coming, couldn't miss her and the hope that she would side-step him and head for the bathroom instead had only been fleeting. As the mattress shifted beneath him, Jess felt his body fall sideways against her but he surprised the pair of them by his lack of reaction. He rolled his eyes and readjusted his balance. Lorelai Gilmore was like a force of nature that you had to learn to weather.

Then, just like that, the woman's arms were around him and were pulling him towards her. Jess groaned in protest but made no move to get away. Instead, he let her in. He gave himself over to the feeling of warmth and protection that her hold afforded him. He drank the affection her simple gesture offered and for once, Jess never thought about the cost.

She offered; he accepted. Lorelai gently rubbed light circles on the teenager's back. "It's good to have you home, kiddo," she said softly so that only Jess could hear. "Don't you ever scare us like that again."

And as she released him and Luke came over to set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, Jess fought his eyes not to water as he looked into the faces of two people who had managed to bore a hole into his tightly woven defenses.

Jess gave them his best, crooked trade-mark smile. "Well," he conceded after a moment's deliberation. "I reckon I can give you till next Tuesday."

* * *

The End.

Phew! It's been a looong time coming and feels good to be able to write. I know I've not lived up to some expectations but I'm very grateful to everyone who has been kind enough to maintain interest to the end or even if you've only just discovered it. It's never easy to give everyone the ending they wanted. There was possibly too much Rory for some and not enough for others and I know I didn't go in to any of the rest of the town. I also know that my knowledge of legal proceedings is limited and there are probably grammatical and/or typos in here that I didn't catch. I apologise for all of above but I have really tried my best for this story.

If anyone feels that I have outrageously missed something out like a loose-end I have failed to tie-up then please let me know and I will see about rectifying it. Otherwise, I am done!

Thanks again to everyone who has or may still respond to this story. I know this is the end and most people don't review at the end but I would still appreciate hearing your thoughts.

Best wishes,

Polly


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